Snow in April :A Wedding Story
by Ariesque
Summary: *Complete* Sequel to Rogue's Diary: My Life is Mean. A story of true wit and abandoned desires, Rogue pines after Remy when he decides to make Jean his bride. In the end, will it boil down to the Cajun or the Aussie? Ch. 20 - The Wedding
1. A Bridesmaid of a Matter

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Dedication: To all the reviewers from the last book and this!  
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~December 28, 2002 2:15 p.m., The third to last door at the left past the staircase (my shared room)  
  
This has been the worst Christmas vacation ever.   
I mean, it can't get any worse right? Heh, I'm stuck believing that somebody would wake me up from this stupid LIE that has been reoccurring ever since I snapped into reality. What that means is...well, that understand, is the reason why I'm living this life: to find out what that means.   
My conclusions so far:   
1.) Jean is a self-controlling alternate being and uses her powers to obsess over little things  
2.) Scott is her toy of which she jerks adamantly by his strings (where they are I do not need or ever will care to find out)  
3.) Remy is possessed by her. If not, he would have never pulled a crazy stunt like say PROPOSE TO THAT SELF- PROCLAIMED ... alternate being   
  
And the fact that I heed or even admit myself to such resolutions has definitely turned me into an obsessive, compulsive...well you know.   
  
Later  
  
The LIE has grown worse and larger. I must advance toward my last resort: putting my head between my knees and hopefully end up passing out.   
  
~December 29, 2002 1:52 p.m., The third to last door at the left past the staircase (my shared room)  
  
Jean, that brute, has made Xavier make Logan make Storm gather the other recruits around to discuss her matrimony to the impudent Remy. Ha! Like I'm going to attend.   
  
Later  
  
They scream and yell outside the door for me to come out. Kitty will not phase through to get me after one unfortunate event I will not utter right now, nor will Kurt teleport in for I will hang it upon him and embarrass him with my ways.  
It's a talent I am privileged to have against all of them.   
There seems to be a fiddling with the doorknob. I see a hand... which is neither blue nor belongs to the one I long to have. It is Scott, no one more than less.  
  
Ever more the Later  
  
He spoke raggedly to me, like his voice was washed from its regular tone by rich whimpers and thick sighs. I gurgle at the thought of such a marionette as Scott can be controlled so vigorously with galore by the girl he loves.   
"Rogue." He rasped the word as if it were an uncontainable burp.   
Spitting a train of curses, I finally asked, "How'd you get in?" He stumbled into the room like a insatiable drunkard of his own tears, his clothes crumpled and wrinkled on his lanky body, possibly from the tossing on his bed the night before.   
I mean, I was a mess too, but at least I didn't look like him.   
"There's something called a door," he said, the tone of sarcasm rising in his voice. I folded my legs under me with undeniable perplexity. There was a sense of a brusque connection between the two of us: that the only people who would savagely pull the ground away from our feet had fallen in love with each other and not us. The connection was only sought by me though, because of course, Scott could only wallow in his own grief and forget the world.   
"It was also locked," I said, using his own tone of sarcasm back at him. He ignored it and looked at the carpeted floor with his red glasses.  
"Storm had a key." His voice had flattened once again. I watched a few moments as he awkwardly paced, his eyes flicking to the carpet and back to me. Then he stopped abruptly, marking the ground with a volatile position. "Rampant they are with their innocence deceived and not to mention deprived! How incredulous and inane and utterly STupID do they think they are! And Remy!" -he laughed the name from his lips- "He's as foul as pig and desperate as a seagull for a fish! He hides behind Jean for his own defense, his own marking! I should've come between them when I had...when I had..." and then he dissolved into tears. This was really embarrassing, especially for me, to comfort the erudite SCOTT from CRYING over the winsome JEAN. But in the end, the soft side of me let out and I found myself shrugging and rubbing his back as he did the last resort for me (the head between the knees thing) and wept for lost love.   
"There's always... how do you say this?" I asked him obscurely, as he sobbed louder. "Other fish in the sea." Oh the old term for the desperate and hopeful (or should I say hopeless?). He stopped crying as suddenly as he started and sullenly stood up. I then had a glimpse of his face - discreetly grim.  
"We should go down now," he said, his voice brittle. I stood up at his words without much concern whether or not to stay back.  
But I was much chagrined when I reached downstairs where I was sternly pulled away by Storm and Scott was briskly brushed in the background.   
But no one seemed to mind.   
She then sat me across from Xavier who looked like he was high on his own punctiliousness as Jean greeted everyone with her own shrill voice.   
"Well now we can finally start!" she said, standing before the fireplace so that she looked imperious. Remy stood off to the corner near her with a look of familiar amusement playing in his eyes. I looked away in disgust.   
"Well, I'd first like to thank you all for being here," -she looked straight at me with this defiant look in her eyes- "and now we'd like to announce our choices for Bridesmaid and Escorts." She read the names, much less to my attention which had flickered back to Remy. His gaze was on Jean and I studied her for a moment or so. Her hair was perfect, her makeup was surely perfect, her voice was perfect...   
I couldn't bear to care about how unbelievably -perfect- she was, so I diverted my gaze back to Remy to discover he had been staring at me. Actually ~everyone~ was staring at me. I looked accusingly at them and then frowned.   
"What?" I asked, indignant. Jean let out a shrill laugh and brushed back her scarlet hair.   
"You didn't hear me, Rogue?" she asked, and I blew out a breath at her incompetence. She furrowed her brow before smiling in exuberance. "You're a bridesmaid!"   
Whoopdeedo. "Is that what you dragged me down here for?!" I uttered, outraged. Storm came from behind and tried grabbing my arm in restraint, but I shifted it down and away from her reach.   
Jean's face darkened and she let her hair slide into her face. "Rogue, it's one day," she explained slowly, her voice lowered.   
"I see no reason why I need to be down here..."   
"Are you humiliated that you have been chosen to walk down an aisle arrayed with flowers in a -dress- that cost five times more than that drab you wear everyday? ARE YOU?" she raised her voice.   
"Yes Jean, I am," I answered, as-a-matter-of-factly. That steamed her quite a bit, but Xavier calmed her down.   
"Jean, I think this has got a little out of hand," he muttered, and she was forced to stop her bickering, "if she doesn't want to..."   
I brushed past the both of them, quickening my pace back up the stairs without a trace of reluctance. No one called me back so I assumed no one wanted me back. Now, someone knocks on my door.  
  
Ever more later  
  
I at first didn't answer it, afraid it might've been Xavier with another lecture, but then there came another abrupt knock and someone said, "Hey, it's me." I hid behind Kitty's bed, which is closer to the ground.   
"Can I come in?" the voice called mulishly.   
I crooned back, "Not if you are anyone."   
"Then should I become a nobody?"   
"If you are already a nobody, what choice do you have but to remain a nobody?"   
Silence. "Cherie, open the door." Remy. I sprung to my feet while straightening my plaid skirt quickly on the way there. Then I paused and thought, what was I doing? Was I really trying to look my best for someone I have already lost? I bit my lip in my suspension before another adamant knock on the door.   
"Cherie," he hissed from behind it, and I could almost see his frustration. Forget what I can't have. If not act now, then never. I rushed the door open and found Kurt standing there. I could almost feel the anger and humiliation churn inside me. I grabbed him by the collar and hissed," Now why do you have to pull a stinkin' trick like that on me?"   
Kurt turned pale blue. "I'm sorry, Rogue. But I didn't know how to get you out!" I put him down slowly and threw a hard glance his way.   
"Don't you -dare- tell anyone..."   
"Don't worry Rogue! I won't!" he promised. I sighed, turning back into my room and was about to close the door before Kurt muttered, " Don't you want to know who's the maid of honor?"   
"Her sister?" I asked, sarcasm rising in my voice. Kurt bit his lip. "Ja," he mumbled and I was going to close the door again when Kurt said, "Care to know who's the best man?"   
Rolling my eyes impatiently, I asked, "Who?" unenthusiastically.   
"Me!" Kurt declared, his expression full of rapt. I looked at him hard and wondered why he was still at my door.   
"Are you going to leave?" I asked, resentful. He looked hurt.   
"You're just going to turn me away like that?" he asked.   
"Well, what do you want me to say?" I rasped the question like a whip at his back. He once again looked hurt. "What?" was all the more I could manage.   
"I don't know anymore," he mumbled and teleported out of my sight. I looked on for a minute longer amidst feelings of suspense and pity, and then finally gathered up my low spirits before slamming the door.   
  
December 30, 2002 9:54 p.m., The third to last door at the left past the staircase (my shared room)   
  
This morning, I awoke to see Jean hovering over me with her usual (and bothersome) shining face of happiness. At first I thought it was dream, but then I focused closely and screamed. Then I tried getting up, only to find myself tangled in my covers and due to all the squirming, landed myself hard on the floor below me. Jean, all the while, laughed.   
"Rogue! You kill me!" was all I made out from her mouth before she dissolved into another round of laughter. I cocked my head a bit, too sleepy to try and backlash this early. Jean was smart: I couldn't do anything early in the morning. Dern. I straightened myself up and was just about to exit this mess, before I heard Jean's voice: "Aren't you going to make your bed?" Like a bossy mother. I turned to her, grinding my teeth.   
"I was thinking of brushing my teeth," I muttered.   
"Oh Rogue, don't worry. Your breath is fine," she said, with a wave of her hand. I once again had to frown at her incompetence.   
"What about my teeth?" I asked, and Jean gave me an upright smile.   
"What about my teeth?" she mimicked, swaying her hands and gesturing at me. I laid an exasperated hand on my hip.   
"Jean, I don't have time for this," I declared hotly. But before I could even touch the doorknob, Jean spoke up, this time her composure sure and straight.   
"Sorry, Rogue, sorry," she muttered, and then started feeling my bed covers. Seriously. She traced it up and down and I knew she wanted something. From me. Again. Oh, sheesh. "I just wanted to know if you were going to be my bridesmaid or not," she said, twisting crimson hair on her finger. I crossed my arms and distorted my mouth into my usual frown.   
"I don't know, Jean," I said. I wasn't going to tell her about my feelings for her fiancé just yet, so I told her that I wasn't comfortable wearing something tight and thin and...revealing. She started to make my bed for me and I hurried to her side before pulling them away from her grasp. She looked at me a bit hard.   
"Don't worry, Rogue," she reassured with a smile. "If you don't survive this, you never have to do it again. But it would mean a lot to me if you were part of MY wedding." She beamed. It was the look that I had grown to hate all the while that I knew her. She watched me for a moment, then caught my eye as it twitched.   
"So, is that a yes?" she asked warily. I huffed a sigh and slowly nodded, sliding my arms down before hitting the sides of my thighs. Jean, of course thrilled, rushed over to me and knowing I hated it, hugged me and said I wouldn't regret it. Then she got the heck out of there before I could retort or even threaten. I haven't seen her since.   
  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
~linkin-spike: I'm much appreciative to you for adding me to your favorite's list! Heh, I'm not that great of an author. Seriously. Let me leave you with this: you write what you read.   
~evilbon32: I was flustered when I read your review! Thank you -- I'm not great of an author. I just write what comes to mind. I hope you can get around to reading this book also -- I have many a turn and twist to keep everyone wanting more! And also a long delayed thank you for putting me on your favorite's list! Much obliged (tips hat).  
~Goddess Evie: Thank you reading my story! Well, I'm a impatient person (great fault of mine) and haven't the heart to reread mistakes (but I always surpass them somehow!) but thanks anyway on the editor head's up. And I agree: an editor is always handy.   
~All Reviewers: Wow! I'm ~thrilled~ at how much critic I received due to the first book! I was absolutely appalled at how many reviewed!! I also was surprised at how many people thought this story was actually going to be about Scogue! I am a bonafide Romy fan til the end folks! Oh, doesn't Rogue sound so much more learned right now? Personal notes to make! Peter and St. John will also appear in this book as well as many other surprises along the way! So keep vigil! 


	2. High Heels and Dresses

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I don't not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Chapter Two: High Heels and Dresses  
Dedication: To Erica, hope this chapter is long enough for you :) Enjoy!  
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December 31, 2002 9:55 p.m., On the satin couch at the foot of the stairs   
  
It is too cold to write in my shared room, but when I tried to turn on the thermostat, Xavier caught me and scolded me on how I insist to pursue the rising heat bill. Then he finally sent me down here to burn a fire and warm myself. The hour is waning - I must hurry if I should write any more.   
The day was dreary, its noon congested with gray rain clouds hovering overhead. I was up in Storm's built-in loft (where she moved half her plants because she keeps too many in her room) memorizing lines from Romeo and Juliet for English, when there came a knock on the door and a second later, Jean appeared, clad in white. Her hair was twisted to the back of her head and she walked with a bounce. Something was obviously making her happy. She grinned with all her teeth when she saw me.   
"Hello Rogue!" she called loudly, though we were only about a foot from each other, "soaking some sun?"   
"Couldn't annoy anyone else today, huh?" I asked flatly. Jean ignored the question and came over to my side. She then took out two parcels: one light green and the other light pink.   
"Pick one," she said, the smile still playing on her lips. I rose an eyebrow and held the book closer to my face.   
"Go away," I commanded, and resumed my memorizing. Jean sighed with despair.   
"Rogue, please," she whined like a school girl.   
"Haven't I done enough already?" I asked, cocking an eye at her. She grimaced and whined again.   
"Please please please?"   
"Go AWAY," I said again, this time motioning her away with my hand. She stood by my side a minute longer before tearing the book away from my hands and throwing it over her shoulder like a ball. I retorted with a shrill scream. "What is your problem, Jean? Go ask Kitty or someone else." A look at Jean and you could tell she wasn't satisfied. So I then took the parcels and threw them over my shoulders like Jean had done with my book. She gave me an exasperated look and took up the parcels again.   
"Rogue, pink or green, that's all I'm asking."   
"I'm no wedding planner."   
"No, you're the bridesmaid and so your decision will affect what color your dress shall be." That made me think. Gurgling deep in my throat, I pointed a reluctant finger at the pink since I didn't want Kitty complaining about wearing green. Jean looked delighted with my choice.   
"So pink they will be," she said delightedly. I shook my head in irritation. Jean looked down at me, glowing.   
"What are you still doing here?" I asked, furrowing my brow. Her smile faded a bit. She then bent over and picked up a box I had failed to notice which was waiting by her feet.   
"What's that?" I asked, making my words bite. Jean opened the box and took out the ugliest, most revolting pair of shoes you've ever seen.   
Well, that is if you're Jean. Then everything in your eyes is perfect.   
"Try them on," she offered, extending her hands so that I had a closer look of the horrendous shoes. They were pink, for one thing, and pointed and had pink bows at the top of it. Not to mention, the heel was like six inches high.   
"Uh, uh, no way," I said, getting up and backing away. Unfortunately, the loft is only so wide, and I was cornered by plants to my left and right and Jean closing in on me.   
"Well, why not? Aren't they the most darling things you've ever seen?" she asked, innocently. I thought, is she blind? Is she without any taste? Then again, she is Jean.   
"Not in this lifetime," I muttered, but loud enough for her to hear. She scowled.   
"Don't make me..."   
"Go away!!!" I screamed. She stopped closing in on me, and I stood there, trembling with loathsome fear. There was a crash of thunder and the lights went out. Rain splattered against the glass windows as the lights flickered back on and Jean stood there, her face unmoved.   
"Are you done?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, " because I am after all trying to do my best to make my wedding perfect! You know, if Remy had never suggested you being one of my bridesmaid, maybe I could've gotten a better answer from Rahne! But no, I'm stuck having you as one of mine! So deal with it, as I am, or best be pulverized! The sooner you comply, the sooner I can get to other things!" All the while she was talking, I was thinking of how Remy had decided to make me a bridesmaid. How could he?! Of all the things he thinks of, he does another dumb thing like this...  
I pulled off one of my Doc Martens and slid my foot into one of the shoes. Jean studied it with a scowl and threw her hands down.   
"Take it off. They are hideous..." she looked away as I kicked it off and was about to put on back my boot, when Jean took out another pair, this time green. So I tried those on and she smiled. I had to admit, they were a little more decent than the last pair.   
"I could tell the company to send in pink ones. Walk around please?" she asked me. Now, that's something I just couldn't do. I mean, the heels were as high as my boots, but at least I pulled the boot with my whole leg. These shoes could take some work. I tried lifting my left foot, put it down and did the same with my right. Balancing on the heel, I almost slipped and caught on to a shelf. I saw the intolerance in Jean's eyes.   
"What happened to you? Didn't you wear my red shoes?"   
"Yes, but they weren't as high as these!" I said, and took them off. But Jean wouldn't take them. She said that I had to 'practice' walking in them. Never in my life did I want or even need to 'practice' walking in high heels! Never!  
"You need to practice if you plan to walk down the aisle without falling flat on your face," she said, walking to the door, "You don't want my guests to think my bridesmaid isn't best enough to hold the title, let alone walk in high heels." Then she was gone before I could curse her.   
I don't -plan- to walk in them, nor did I ever -want- to walk in anything down any stupid aisle! This is all Remy's fault, to say the least.   
  
January 1, 2003 5:34 p.m., Under the stars in Storm's Loft   
  
I went outside to practice walking around in high heels and flaunt to the world how good I am in them. Of course, it was 6 degrees outside, but everyone was a bustle indoors. The tree was getting pulled down, and everyone was putting away decorations. I couldn't walk in my shared room because Kitty decided to do vacuuming and told me that she was in the mood to clean my side. And Ororo was up in the loft planting and watering so I wasn't allowed in there when she was with her 'babies'. So, outside was the best place to work at the moment. I put on the shoes and started trudging in half-an-inch snow which barely covered the ground while reciting the lines I had memorized the night before.   
  
"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.  
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.  
What's a Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,  
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part  
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!  
What's in a name? That which we call a rose..."  
  
I stopped, catching myself from falling by clinging to a nearby tree. Walking away from it, I stumbled on a small stone which I was naive to render, and found myself hurtling toward the mansion's wall. A quick second and someone caught me before I smashed into the brick. Straightening in my rescuer's arms, I regained my composure and dared to look at my hero's face.   
Remy.  
"By any other word would smell as sweet." The words seeped from my lips as I lost myself in his glare. His red eyes were beckoning and winsome - not to mention beautiful. I think I could've drooled if he had not spoken me out of my trance.   
  
"So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,  
Retain that dear perfection which he owes  
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,  
And for thy name, which is no part of thee,  
Take all myself."   
  
He grinned after his recitation of my line. Pushing myself away from his hold around me, (reluctant as I was) I dusted imaginary dirt off my clothes and tried to stand straight with the shoes I had on.   
"You know the prose?" I asked, stilling the awkward silence. His grin widened.   
"English. You have Ms. Fielton?"   
"Unfortunately." I could've gazed at him all the longer if he hadn't snapped me out of it once again.   
"De shoes--?" he asked, and I looked down. Grimacing, I took a hand to my neck, rubbing it ever more.   
"Jean said I um, couldn't walk in them properly, so I had to practice." He smiled, a chortle deep in his throat. "So, um, weren't you out with Jean celebrating New Year's?"   
He paused, as if to think over his answer. "She said she needed t' try contactin' some company about shoes. Thet t' color you's dress gonna be?" I shifted uneasily in the elevation of the shoes.   
"Alas," I mumbled, and he laughed. Then he took my arm and led me around in a circle.   
"It's easy," he declared, "like learning how to skate. Y' just need a tutor."   
"That's funny, 'cause I don't know how to skate and never asked for no tutor." He could see my frustration and stopped in front of me with a steady look in his eye.   
"Aw, chere," he said so casually, that I felt tears cling to my eyes, "just remember, you's doin' dis for Jean." I laughed as he pushed me away and I fell back into his arms. "An, you's doin' it fer me too." I stopped laughing and looked up at his sincere enough face. How could you, I thought, as I concentrated my being into him, how could you just raise me up like that and let me flop back into reality?  
"Remy," I said, pushing my eyes down to my feet, "why did you ask Jean to marry you?"   
He let go of my arms and stood me up straight. Then he looked directly into my eye and said, "Because wen you know somethin's right, wen you know you just want it, den you go for it."   
"But do you love her?" the question was daunting. And bad enough, he didn't answer it. He was saved by Jean, who came around the corner and called us in.   
"They're serving eggnog for the New Year!" she stated, and then noticed the shoes on my feet.   
"So the lessons begun?" she asked, as I rounded the corner before her.   
"Ever so," I answered, and hurried inside.  
At the main room, I noticed Kurt was sitting over by the fire by himself, and I knew he was still peeved at what I had told him the days before. Taking off the shoes, I walked over and asked if I could sit by his side. He complied and I sat. Staring into the ember, I said, "Kurt, I'm sorry. Things haven't been going...right... lately and my feelings just caught up to me, that's all." Kurt looked at me, and sighed.   
"I know, Rogue. But for now on, just try to be nicer, kay?" he asked, and I laid a hand on his shoulder.   
"I'm already trying."   
I didn't stay for eggnog. The cold of my shared room just seemed so much more joyous than that of sorrow and anguish I would feel if I were downstairs. Scott, I've noticed, is no where to be found.   
  
January 2, 2003 6:17 p.m., The ride back to the Mansion in Jean's SUV  
  
Jean is very panicky. She keeps yelling she only has four months until the wedding to get everything proper and ready. I, on the other hand, could care less.   
She took her bridesmaids to the Bridal Shop down some twenty blocks to try on various dresses she had already selected. While we were loading into her SUV, Kitty took a glimpse at my pouch with you in it, and gave me a impish smile.   
"A diary, heh," then she looked at me. "Rogue?" I gave her a hard look.   
"How's bout you just not care, kay, Kit?" I said, and jumped into the back of the SUV, immediately getting hit by the fresh scent of pine from Jean's air freshener. The way there was quiet, despite the chattering of Jean as she conversed on the phone, no doubt to Remy. They had become attached and neither one wanted to break apart, much to everyone's distress. Xavier I think, was hit the hardest. He's the one paying for everything, Remy wise. Jean's parents are taking care of the rest.   
But still, when you think about how many things a groom needs, it all adds up.  
Danlie's Bridal Shoppe is a very classy, chic bridal shop with mannequins in the windows to display gorgeous dresses of iridescent sequins and sweet abstractions of silk. It's not like I haven't been inside - Ritzy and I usually come in and pull dresses from the rack and then trash the dressing rooms- but the feeling was never really mutual.  
Now, it was for real.   
Once there, I stood amidst the dampen snow and cascading lights, studying the flaunted dresses of white and red in a window specifically decorated to celebrate the New Year. A mannequin groom stood near a the door as we entered, the air hinted with the strong stench of champagne. Jean, who knows everyone everywhere, came up to the counter and rang the bell. I wandered away from the other bridesmaids and started absent-mindedly searching through a rack of dresses before hearing Jean scream, "But I want to see Danlie! She said she had my dresses stashed in that room behind you!!" I shook my head and continued mindlessly searching through the rack. Separating a few dresses, I suddenly caught sight of someone, obviously watching me from the other side of the rack. Going back to the two before, I separated them again before seeing recognizing my stalker as..  
"St. John!" I cried, a bit happily and he gave me a beautiful grin which reminded me of Remy a little. Tears sprung to the corners of my eyes.   
"Well, if isn't Remy's Sheila," he said casually. I went to the other side and he gathered me into an amiable hug. When he finally let go, I noticed his features had softened.   
"Don't cry, love," he cooed, and I was surprised to find my face wet. Wiping my cheeks, I heard my name being called, and came over to the other side where Kitty stood with Ororo, Amara, and Jubilation. I introduced them to St. John and he explained why he was here in the first place.   
"I'm here with Peter. Remy called and told me to wait fer him here. Said I was an escort?"   
"And you are," someone said from behind. Remy was leaning on the groom that greeted us at the door, looking like he'd been there all day. I felt my heart skip a beat as he joined our small circle.   
"Where's Jean?" he asked, and then my heart dropped to my stomach. Of course, what did I expect other than him thinking about his fiancé?   
"Screaming. Pacing and panicky. She can't seem to get a hold of our dresses, not to mention herself," Amara explained, and Remy got out of his tight standing position rather slowly.   
"I'll, um, go find her den," he said and left us. I looked after him with a sour face and John noticed, much to my despair.   
"Don't you go an' spit your rancor. He's up to his own bizzo," he told me in a scolding manner. I glared at him, nonchalantly.  
"Don't tell me what to do," I rasped at him, my voice bitter and brittle. He looked pained, as if struck. And then again, who that I've spoken to so far, hasn't?   
I really need to live up to my priorities.   
So, I ventured away from them yet again, guilty that I had back lashed like that. It's a feeling that I could never bring myself to live with, and whenever my eyes caught his, I looked away with embarrassment and dismay.  
Jean found our dresses with the help of Remy and made us try them on. They were pink with spaghetti straps that held the dress on the shoulders - not to mention, no gloves. When I saw mine, I looked at her with deluging aberration.   
"I can't wear this," I commented, swinging the dress on the hanger as if to see if it would magically turn into an overcoat or something with sleeves. Jean looked at me impudently.   
"Yes you can," she said with the wry look she gives when she speaks of politics and tries to get a point across. I stared at her angered.   
"Maybe I can, but what if I bump into someone with no sleeves? What do you say about that? I don't want to cause pandemonium on your wedding day," I said, hoping she would articulate on the matter. Instead, she entrusted it into my gloved arms and growled.   
"Maybe. Try it on," she ordered, and pointed me off into the dreaded dresser. I frowned my whole way there.   
How Jean knew my size, I am without knowledge, but it fit perfectly when I finally got it on. The dress itself was a marvel. Completely modern, it stretched to the ground, cascading over my boots, and finally ending in silky lace extravagantly scalloped. The straps sat snugly on my shoulders, barring the creamy tone of white they displayed. It neither was adorned with sequins or arrayed with ribbons. Jean had quite some taste. My arms lay limp by my sides while I spun around on the elevated block I was on, as if intending to chase my train. And aside from my gloved hands, I am pleased to say, I was pretty. Fixing my hair, I was having a heck of a time in front of the three mirrors circling the dressing room until someone said, "Well, someone looks like they're having a great time."   
I spun around, almost falling off the block. My anticipation ceased when I caught sight of the speaker. It was John once again. Straightening myself, I looked around as if to see if Remy was with him. John caught my eye and huffed.   
"He's trying on his tux," he said, reading my mind and entering the room I had forgotten to lock. John had on his tux already, but he had done a sloppy job on the buttons and bow tie. I smirked in my discretion. Getting down from the block, I motioned towards him in blunt fashion.   
"Am I that conspicuous?" I asked, meeting his eyes of bluest blue. He racked a smirk.   
"Sheila, I couldn't read anything more clearer." I gave him a bleak smile and brought my hands to correctly button his tux. He observed thoughtfully and met my eyes again.   
"You're beautiful, Rogue." He made the words stick. I felt myself go red and moved my hands to his bow tie.   
"So do I have to clad myself in pink to be called 'beautiful'?" I asked him, and he looked a little culpable.   
"Sorry," his face was apologetic. I brought a hand up and laid it on his breastbone.   
"No, don't," I said, pushing a small smile, "I'm kidding."   
He studied my face and I tried to make him believe I was sincere, but he was smarter than I thought. What scared me was that he was a lot like Remy, same gestures, same reading minds, same winsome and beautiful grin. He held out his elbow, waiting for me to take his arm. Hey, what the heck.   
Jean was a bit peeved that I decided to take a few minutes getting John ready, but then she shifted moods and announced the partners: Ororo and Logan, Jubes and Evan, Amara and Roberto, John and me, Kitty and Peter. I looked over at Remy who was staring hard at John and back at Jean. Surely he didn't come up with this formation, did he?   
Probably, I wasn't sure.   
Jean was happy with the dresses, thank God. She said she never seen anything better on me. And Remy laughed when she said it. He is obviously as compulsive and thoughtless as I am.   
Anyway, the truth is I am pleased with the turnabouts today. John is coming to the rehearsal tomorrow, so we'll practice then. I should go, Kitty keeps looking over to see what I've written.   
That is all, no more and less.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________   
Aubs2006: Thanks for your review and adding me to your favorite's list! Alas, I think I might lay off a bit of the bashing on Jean for the latter chapters to throw you all off or something :0  
Nicky: I hope this one will be just as good and successful as it's previous book also!  
Starlightz6: Phft. Being a bridemaid's was the last thing on Rogue's mind, and everyone's at that! But think about it, she could get closer to the one she longs for (Remy), no?  
Erica: Hope you caught the dedication! This one 'seems' longer, I hope ^.^'  
Sujakata: Rogue/Remy action as you requested! There'll be more and other things along the way before the big day!  
Vagabond: I had no idea you put me on your favorite's list! Thank you so much! I have to remember to put it as this story as a sequel. Thanks for the head-up!  
Klucky: Well, I'm glad it's not a scogue either (never understood the coupling in the first place), but you never know, Rogue just might not win Remy! *_*  
Evolutionary Spider: *grumbles in despair* I'm completely suffused with compliments on my writing! Thank you, I feel so loved (hehehe) It encourages me on my aspirations on being a writer. Much obliged, Spider.  
Ishandahalf: Ha! I totally agree with you on the Jean controlling Remy thing! And I hope this chapter fulfills your Romy wit!   
linkin-spike: I love stories that revovle around growing romance with petty humor! I try to write about characters that relate to what you would read, because if you don't connect with the characters, what's the point of reading at all? Thank you for your compliments on my writing, I'm much appreciative.  
Lilsweetcherryblossom: I read your last review and thought, gosh, I can't make them wait THAT long! Glad you're happy with my speedy sequel and the chapters to come! 


	3. Surprises at every Angle

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Chapter Three: Surprises at every Angle  
Dedication: To Derrick. Our almost anniversary was yesterday.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
January 3, 2003 9:34 p.m., In Storm's Loft - between the lavender and holly  
  
Rehearsal was scheduled for 4:30 p.m. and was supposed to run for only about an hour, but Remy was late and Logan forgot all about it. Jean was pissed, and started cursing everything from her mother to the church's candles.   
It was quite amusing to say the least.   
When Remy and Logan finally did show up (at different times, mind you), Jean relaxed and we started going over formation and times to go up. There was also a wedding planner by the name Dunst (pronounced Dan) who discussed the wedding.   
"Jeanie," as he called Jean, "wants you girls," that's the bridesmaids, "to line up from shortest to tallest." So we fell as stated - Amara, Jubes, Kitty, me, and then Ororo. Then the escorts fell into place and finally Jean lined up behind us.   
Dunst came to the front and started saying, "No no no! You can't do this!" when Kitty fell out of line or, "Stop playing with that!" to Logan who was really just trying to fix his collar. He was about to shine his menacing claws to threaten the guy, but Ororo hushed him and he obeyed.  
When we finally reached the altar, Dunst told us to go back again since he caught some mistakes in walking (who ever thought we'd make mistakes just walking!). So we did what we were told, and again, and again, until we must've done it a dozen times before Dunst threw his hands up and said, "I give up!" Then he went into a pew and put his head between his knees and sat there like that for twenty minutes or so. Jean, seeing he had given up on her, went over and screamed at him, so finally he passed out and was carried away by the paramedics. That, I should conclude, was hilarious. And when Remy tried to comfort Jean, she spat, "Don't you dare come close to me! Part of this mess is YOUR fault."  
Well, now that we've seen the real Jean, we might as well go home, right?   
Heh. It's not that easy. We weren't off the hook yet.   
Jean took over. She commanded that we do this properly or we would spend the night at the church. Amara brought to our attention that that was not possible - there was a mass at six. Jean, after pondering this, screamed at Amara and made her cry. Therefore, no one wanted to argue so we just did what we were told.   
No talking was permitted. John tried to sneak a whisper to me, but Jean caught him, screamed, and sent him off to a corner of the church. Everyone got scared and shut up. Then Kitty sneezed and Jean became outraged. She babbled and preached about disrupting the service and what would we do if she happened to sneeze on Jean's wedding day?   
"I'd ask for a tissue," Kitty said smartly and was sent off to the other corner of the church.   
Ororo tried to make amends for all of this. "Think about it, Jean," she told her, over Amara's sniffles, "I know you're frustrated, but don't you think you're being a little unreasonable? I mean, making Amara cry? Sending Kitty to the corner for sneezing? Isn't that just a bit over doing it?"   
Jean gave her a wicked look. "I want to get this over with just as much as you do. Now can you please get in line?"   
Okay. It was one thing to talk smart and order people around. But you shouldn't boss people around if she has powers like Ororo. Almost immediately, a rain cloud appeared before our heads and was about to sprout water, when Logan kinda clicked her back to where we were and she stopped.  
Jean continued to fuss around, until finally at eight, she sat down and put her head between her knees as Dunst did, quietly sobbing as she did so. Remy came over and patted her back.   
"C'mon, Cherie," he said, "what do you t'ink you're doin'?"   
"I'm trying to pass out," she said, a matter-of-factly. Remy sighed.   
"Jean, please..."   
"My own wedding planner failed me! What am I to do?" she asked, sitting up in despair. Remy put an arm around her, comfortingly.   
"Let's go home. We'll try again some otta time."   
"But when, Remy?" she asked, standing up. "When?"   
Remy looked at her indignantly. "Later." He stood up and pulled her into him. Turning to us, he said to go home. Everyone was joyous, especially Kitty, who was standing next to the manager scene and started getting the creeps. John came over, but I ignored him, still studying Jean and Remy as they exited the church.   
"He ain't going to come," he muttered over my shoulder. I turned to him, annoyed.  
"I know that," I said, and started walking briskly as to get out. John followed, much to my animosity.  
"Rogue, stop, please," he called, and I obeyed, surprising even myself. He joined my side a moment later. "Why do you keep chasing someone you can't have?" I turned to him, yet again, facing his growing concern.   
"Why do you care?" I asked. He looked at me, hard. "You know what, forget it. I have to go." So then I turned on my heel and hurried away. What I don't believe is that he should have the heart to care at all. I never understood him, anyway.   
  
January 4, 2003 2:34 p.m., At Bettle Blvd., waiting for the bus  
  
I've been abandoned yet again. This time, by Ritzy. She said that she'd meet me here so that we could go around Bettle Blvd., to eat snow cones and throw snowballs at unsuspecting passersby.   
But she didn't show up.   
I've been waiting since noon, and she hasn't turned up. Something is wrong. Ritzy would never pull a subterfuge like this, right?   
I mean, best friends don't do such, would they? I --  
Hey! That car just splashed me with water...wait...I know that...oh my gosh, it's Scott's car!!  
  
Later, at St. Gertude's Hospital's waiting room  
  
Scott was attempting suicide.   
Well, at least, that's what all the records think. He took his car and plowed into Rick's Buttoning Repairs at the corner of Bettle Blvd. and James St.   
Okaay, but that's the worst attempt of suicide that I've ever heard of. I mean, jumping off a building seems smarter than this. Not that I'm suggesting anything... I'm really stupid.   
I just arrived, and upon finding that Scott entered surgery for a broken hip and arm, am now forced to wait. And we all know why he did it.  
Because he couldn't have Jean. I think I would be pretty mad too if I live with someone that I love and find out they're marrying someone else and I don't get even a spot in the wedding.  
Oh, Logan's arrived. I should go to tell him what's up.   
  
Later, back at the Mansion  
  
Scott's gonna make it. He's pretty banged up, and the doctors found some antidepressant drugs in his system, but they let him come back to the mansion since Xavier said they had a license to keep him in good condition. Of course everyone's a mourning - Jean the most. It makes me sick that Scott should have to do something stupid like this to get Jean's attention. She was out shopping when all of this happened and arrived last to visit Scott. Remy watches from behind the glass, his face struck. I saw him waiting for Jean to come out, his fists balled and barred. He saw my reflection in the glass and turned to me. It was awkward from then on, but I joined his side anyway to watch through the glass as well.   
"She takes the blame, you know," he said without facing me. I swallowed hard. "She's not as evil as you think."   
As I think? As everyone thinks.  
"John told me how you feel about all this," Remy continued and I raised my eyebrows in anxiety, "and I don't blame you."   
Did he also tell Remy about my feelings for him? Someone's gonna get beat up as soon as I'm out...  
"But you's have to consider that it's just one day.." I turned, in a fleeing motion. He didn't call me back, much to my relief. One day? Did that mean John didn't tell Remy 'bout my feeling for him? Did he just think I was tired of trying so much, not because I loved him?  
I need to find John and ask what exactly did he tell Remy.  
  
January 5, 2003 8:52 p.m., the bus home   
  
Ritzy met me at Merde in Clairemont's. She said that she had dues the day before and hoped she didn't miss anything exciting. I told her about Scott's attempt on his own life, and she was sorry she missed it.   
"And I missed you as well," she said, with a small smile. I dismissed the cheesiness with a smile of my own. The sun managed to hide behind the clouds for the rest of the day, as we ordered coffee and sat down in wicker chairs while admiring the surroundings.   
"How's everything at the mansion?" she asked casually, and I looked away. Putting the coffee down with my hand I pushed another small smile.   
"Fine." She looked at me, discerning.   
"Not so great with -him-, huh?" she asked, sipping her own cup. I traced the whickered chair with my fingers.  
"He asked Jean to marry him." Ritzy spit out her coffee and looked at me, appalled.  
"He did WHAT?" she asked, hurriedly. I poured the details painstakingly, trying not to leave anything out. She listened, her eyes growing wider with anticipation.   
"Dern," she said, sitting back as I finished my story.   
"And now, Jean's all fussy about the rehearsals." Ritzy put a hand to her chin and asked who was my escort. I sighed, remembering Remy and my conversation the night before.  
"St. John," I said in a brittle voice. Ritzy smirked, and hit my shoulder.  
"Loosen up, Rogue. He's just as cute." I laughed with her.  
"There's just something John doesn't fulfill. He's not, well, Remy." I sipped my coffee, depressed.   
Ritzy huffed and threw her cup away. "Love is a terrible thing," she muttered, and stood up with me. We walked around Clairemont's for a few minutes, surveying the New Year's decorations and hitting some with snowballs, until I caught sight of someone coming up the drive.   
Peter. I stopped my mischief almost immediately. Where there's a Peter, there's a John. Meeting him by the iced brook, I introduced Ritzy to him and asked what he was doing here. He smirked and took out something in a blue velvet box. It was necklace.   
"Is it nice?" he asked, innocently. I wrapped its chain around my fingers and traced the imprinted 'Kitty' with a bit of jealousy. Ritzy was also gazing at it, and I heard her breath rasp when I revealed the word who it'd be to. I gave it back to Peter and smirked.   
"It's beautiful," I told him with sincerity. He smiled and brought me into a imperious hug.   
"You never let me down," he motioned in a placated way. Then he walked away. I wondered after him how he would get such past Lance, who loves his dear Cat with desire. Ritzy, reading my thoughts, agrees thoughtfully with me.  
"He's audacious, thinking he take Kitty away from Lance," she said, bitterly. I looked at her, startled.  
"He has no intention of doing such. It's a sweet gesture, leave it at that," I came to Peter's defense. She looked at me rigidly.  
"I still think it's pretty unnecessary," she said, waving a hand to final her statement.   
We wandered back and Ritzy offered to take me home, but I declined, knowing she'd badmouth Peter along the way. A day with Ritzy can make you forget your troubles, but never others'.   
I should visit Scott as soon as I get back.  
  
January 6, 2003 8:15 a.m., French  
  
I went back to school today. Everyone thinks it's pointless, but I know for sure that it's much better than staying home, watching lesbians marry on Jerry Springer or reruns of The Simpsons.  
Everyone's talking about Jean's wedding. They're surprised - the girls are sorry they themselves didn't get to know the "Hot Cajun". I just stand back, amidst the gossip.   
"I heard Jean's pregnant," I overheard Taryn say with solemn glee.  
"I heard the Cajun drinks," the others commented, as I past them. Champagne. And sometimes bourbon, I thought to myself. Jean doesn't know though - and she's about to find out sooner or later.  
  
January 7, 2003 12:45 p.m., World Civ  
  
At lunch, I was talking to Kitty at her locker when I saw Lance coming up her way.   
He looked really pissed.  
Kitty was putting her books away, humming nonchalantly while I silently scolded her for not being aware of trouble up ahead. It hit her harder than I expected.   
Almost instantly, Lance slammed his hand on her locker, closing it with a bang. She stood there, shocked, and was about to say something, when Lance held out something so familiar, it made my heart drop - the Cat playing with flowers… the gift from Peter!  
"What's this?" Lance asked, his eyes narrowing. Kitty's mouth dropped open and she held up a hand, but Lance closed his palm on the glass creation. I looked away, dismayed.   
"A gift," Kitty said, recollecting. She tried once more to take it from him, but he moved his hand away from hers.   
"From who?!" he said loudly, almost yelling. Kitty put a finger to her lip.   
"Quiet! You don't want attention..."   
"F**k attention!" he yelled, and I could almost see his eyes flicker in anger, "are you -cheating- on me?"   
The question was alerting. Kitty brimmed with boiling anger herself. "Can you stop being a jerk and realize that I'm not! Why would I?" she asked, her voice softening. She took hold of Lance's fist and phased through it, taking the glass from his hand. Lance watched, stiffening. She put the creation into her locker and smiled.   
"There. See? It's a gift, not a kiss," she said, and pecked him on the cheek. "Now stop worrying. I don't even know who gave it to me." Her face was sincere. Lance gave me a swift look which told he was in disbelief, but walked away without another word. Kitty turned to me, her features shaking.   
"That was bad," she said, recoiling in fear. Then she looked up at me, her eyes violent with fright. "Rogue, you know who gave it to me, don't you? Can you tell him to stop?" she took up her book bag and walked past me. I stared after her, not knowing what to say.   
How did Lance get his hands on it in the first place? It doesn't make any sense.  
  
January 8, 2003 6:13 p.m.   
  
Scott, I understand, is happier. Jean has made it a ritual to feed him every morning, and Remy doesn't seem to mind. She's being charitable, is what I heard.   
Kitty, I've noticed, has put the glass creation back by her bedside.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________________________  
Vagabond: *laughs* You read my mind! Look for some romance the next chapters! Whether it will last or not remains a mystery..  
Lady MR: Of course! I love Rolo! Look for some the next chapters!  
Nicky: Yes, sadly, it doesn't work out for Rogue. And John might just make a move on her!  
Arynnl: Thank you for putting me on your favorite's list! It's so hard to keep track -- hanktay ouyay  
IshandaHalf: Ugh. I don't think John would get Remy with Rogue just yet... (suspenseful, isn't it?)  
Starlightz6: Possibly *rubs chin* you could think that way...  
Cassie-bear01- Scott fulfills many a prophecy with suicide written all over it. Will he ever learn? 


	4. Icing of the Cake

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Chapter Four: Icing of the Cake   
Author's Note: Okay. I'm waiting for X-Men Evo to come on and then when 10:30 a.m. finally rolls along, I sit in front of the T.V., and see - Yu-gi-Oh?! Can we say What the heck?! Did X-Men get cancelled? I noticed the same thing last week too! Someone ANSWER me!! Yes, I am spazing over a cartoon. Bite me.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
January 9, 2003 4:13 p.m., in the shared room  
  
When I got out of my shared room this morning, I accidentally brushed my arm against Ororo's - absorbing some of her memory. She looked worried, like there was something she didn't want to reveal. Let's just hope she didn't kill anyone or stole anything.   
  
Later, 6:17 p.m.   
  
Things are reoccurring - memories are flashing... I see...a note... it reads, "One o' clock in the morning of January 12. Under the stars, on the roof."   
  
Ack! A note! But from who? What if it's from Xavier?  
  
Okay, that's just scary.  
  
January 10, 2003 10:39 a.m., in Xavier's limo back to the mansion  
  
I kept getting flashes of Ororo's memory and started going "mental" according to my Gym teacher. This is what I saw:  
  
~ Xavier (I shudder at the thought) handing her an envelope  
~Logan handing her a newspaper  
~ Mr. McCoy watering her plants  
~Seeing Jean feed Scott. And her scolding him for thinking it as a chance to come unto Jean.  
  
All those choices are scary.  
I'm getting sent home for sparking the drinking fountain again. Principal Kelly thinks it's because of my powers and I told him smartly maybe he should find himself a better job - maybe as a psychiatrist since he's so good at analyzing things.  
So he gave me three days of detention for my boltushka* (as Peter would say).  
Xavier isn't happy, but I told him that it wasn't my fault. He believed me.  
Sometimes having a caretaker that has an IQ of 220 and no mannerisms of children is well off.  
  
January 11, 2003 1:15 p.m., my shared room   
  
I ran into Lance today, and he gave me this really evil look and then I remembered that I didn't tell Peter to stop giving gifts to Kitty!   
  
List of what to dos:   
~Find out who the letter is from  
~Tell Peter to quit with the gifts  
~Fetch newspapers from the kitchen to give to Scott  
~Spy on Remy  
~Find John and ask him what exactly did he tell Remy  
~Finish Bio homework before Ms. Xaz collects it!!  
  
January 12, 2003 12:35 a.m., the bedrooms' hallway  
  
I have been wandering around, looking for a better place to sneak up to the roof. Kitty is already in bed, but she is self-defiant and jumps at anything that'll wake her. I have snuck out without her getting up, but it's only a matter of time.   
  
Later, 2:34 a.m.   
  
I stole into Scott's room, remembering it was the room that's corners slopped low and close to the roof so anyone could jump on it. Upon entering, I heard someone stir and jumped to hide under the bed. It couldn't have been Scott- he was still downstairs playing dead man eating with Jean - so when I felt someone pull me back I yelped. A coarse hand came to my mouth and I heard someone cry as if burned. Whirling away and toward the moonlight, I caught a glimpse of the perpetrator - Remy.   
We both said each other's name in a start. Then we asked what each other thought we were doing here. I frowned, afraid that I'd be late in seeing who Ororo was meeting at one. So I dusted myself off and replied, "You answer me. This ain't your room."   
I could almost see that frown he played on his lips. "What 'bout you? Dis ain't yur room any, chere," he told me. Annoyed, I looked at my digital watch - two minutes to one. I bit my lip.   
"Look, I don't have time to spare, rat. I need to go out and up."   
"I's t'ink de expression is 'up and out'," he answered, thinking he was correcting me. I couldn't help but smirk.  
"No, rat, out and up to the roof," I explained. He looked at me with a crippling smile.  
"What's on de roof? John?" I laughed a no.   
"Ororo and someone. And what does John have to do with anything?" He shrugged his shoulders and turned on the light. As my eyes adjusted to the illumination, I had just a quick look at Remy - he had a shirt on (darn) but his features had changed - grown out his hair and shaved off his goatee (Jean made him).   
He looked absolutely gorgeous. I know I've heard it about a zillion times from Jean, but you know, this time it's coming from me.   
"You okay, chere? You look a bit pallid," he said, standing in front of me. I turned away so I wouldn't have to see him anymore. Remy could make you feel you've committed a sin just by looking at him.   
I brought a hand to my neck and rubbed it. "You - You didn't answer me - what are you doing here?" I saw the corners of his mouth turn up.  
"Jean's keepin' presents in my room. People are already sendin' in toasters and microwaves..." It was here I looked at the time and realized I was late.   
"1:13 already?!" I was in disbelief. The fact that I had to go to school today got me all panicky and I swung open the window before crawling out. Sliding a bit, I brought myself up and hurried behind the vent. Ororo was there and -- Logan.   
Hmph. I never thought him to be romantic. But it is better than finding Xavier there.   
There was no music, no dinner, no fancy clothes. Just the two of them, under the stars, like Logan had written. That was just so sweet. Watching them recline --in each others arms-- was surprising and yet, comforting. Evan, I know, would surely hurl and Kurt would gasp and tease but I know I thought it was sweet. I got down, seeing nothing more, and was surprised to find Remy already waiting for me.   
"See anything?" he asked, helping me down to the balcony's floor. I smiled, knowing he had seen also.  
"You tell me," I simply replied. Even after I was safe on the balcony, he cradled his arms around my waist and I had to pull away to remember that he was already engaged. I actually ran out of there, not caring whether or not he was calling me or not, and closed the door to my shared room. I saw Kitty sitting on the bed, her arms crossed, her famous frown on her face. I looked around her, pulled off my boots and jumped into bed. But couldn't go to sleep without telling you first.   
  
January 13, 2003 3:45 p.m., waiting for someone to pick me up from school  
  
I'm waiting.  
  
This can't be happening. Again.   
  
This is the SECOND time Logan has done this to me. And Ritzy, the fifteenth in let's say A MONTH?!   
  
Well, I can't be cruel. I was up there spying on him and maybe he sniffed me while there and is making me pay.   
  
But, C'MON!! Nobody gets left after three. Or else they have to wait by and by side with THAT girl who DOESN'T shave her legs. This cannot be anymore pathetic.  
  
I don't deserve this. I'm a good girl who just happens to be curious. And is gothic and pessimistic. I think that's the reason why everyone borrows money from me. Because I don't expect it back.   
  
That's getting off the subject. I'm fuming angry at that scary person furry man LOGAN.   
  
Here comes the X Jeep. Prepare for a shouting match, furry man.  
  
Later, 6:12 p.m.  
  
It wasn't Logan. It was -Jean- with that impudent -smile- on her pasty face.   
And I really wanted to call Logan furry man.  
The passenger door was opened and I could hear Bartok playing in the radio. I cringed at the sound.  
"Jump in!" Jean offered, motioning me in with her hand. I gawked at her. How could she ever get an idea like making me drive with her around in the X Jeep and Bartok playing in the radio? It's like bread and jellyfish. It doesn't counteract.  
I took a step back, but then noticed that GIRL who doesn't SHAVE her LEGS and thought, screw this. Anything could be better than waiting by side that scary girl.  
So I jumped in, as intended, and slammed the door. It automatically locked and I gulped. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all.   
"Sorry nobody came to pick you up," Jean apologized after zooming off the high school grounds, "but Logan said he couldn't cuz of some business and everyone at that. And I thought, heck, I'll just bust out this jeep and we could go and taste test some cakes, right?"   
Cakes?! Cakes?! What in any day do you taste test a CAKE in the middle of JANUARY when the wedding is in APRIL?!  
I told her this, and she went, "Pfuit! Don't be silly, Roguie. Soon, all the months will go over your head and then it'll be April 16 before you know it!"  
"April 16?" I asked, my head woozy. Jean glanced at me sideways.   
"Ye-AH. The wedding day?" she said, holding back a giggle.   
April 16. Not bad. By then, all the snow would melt away and blossoms would bud and spring and be all...pink.   
I mean, our dresses are pink. Does the wedding need to be any pinker?! Think about it, pink clashes with Jean's hair! Or course, she doesn't know it or possibly doesn't care, because everything clashes with her hair, one way or the other.  
So we arrive at Bonnie's Bakery which I guess I should explain what's in there too. It's this small bakery where the homely shop but I've seen the cakes displayed and they were really extravagant. I especially like the flowers that Bonnie makes - they look better than realistic.  
Then we entered, and Jean gets flooded with remarks and kisses and I get pushed over to the side to survey the cakes.   
"Bonnie, this is my friend Rogue," she introduced, and I just waved. Bonnie was an middle aged woman who had wrinkles and a warm smile. I felt bad for just waving, but I didn't want any direct contact - again.  
"I'm here to sample some cakes," Jean said and Bonnie muffled she had it all laid out to try.  
"There's chocolate, strawberries (very expensive), angel, devil..." then a whole list after. I never thought there could be so many flavors and varieties of CAKE. Nuts are one thing, but cake is completely different. So Jean pulls me to her side and tells me to sample FIFTY-TWO DIFFERENT SLICES OF CAKE.   
"Couldn't you do it?" I asked, trying to save my hips. Jean laughed.  
"Yeah, right, Rogue. If I had that option, I wouldn't fit in my size one dress, now would I?"  
"YOU have a DRESS already?! It's only JANUARY for crying out loud!" I practically yelled at her. She smiled, cunningly.   
"No, silly. I'm gonna buy a dress later," she said, and then pushed a slice of cake toward me. "Now eat."  
So I tried, and after taste forty-two, I would've hurled. If I was eating the WHOLE slice, I would've passed out by then, but I tried until I got a taste of every one of them. I looked over at Jean and her whole face was glowing. I then pointed to almond cake. Jean rose an eyebrow.  
"Are you serious? I was hoping you'd pick the angel cake." That's when I ran out to hurl (the taste of different flavors just doesn't do well in my mouth all at once). Why couldn't Jean just try them herself?   
Jean, I don't understand.  
When I came back, Jean had ordered the almond cake with PINK frosting. I came to her side and suggested she turn it to brown.   
"You can't make the whole wedding pink," I said flatly. She looked at me hard.   
"You want to see me try?" she asked, wickedly. I shook my head.  
"There are too many things PINK. Can't you just make something white for once?"   
"My dress is white," Jean reasoned. I slammed the cake book and gave her a hard look.   
"No more pink," I said, making my voice low and dark. Bonnie, who was behind the counter gawked at me.  
"Well, SOMEbody's not a happy person," she said, and I was about to punch her nose in, when Jean sighed and told Bonnie to turn the cake white. Then she dragged me out and looked at me with a scolding eye.  
"Rogue," she said once we were in the jeep, "why can't you just stop being yourself and stop embarrassing me?"   
I dropped my jaw in disgrace.  
"You're telling me," I muttered and we rolled out the drive as Jean turned up the now Beethoven on the radio. Well, at least I hurled. That should teach her if she should ever think to bring me to anything again.   
  
*boltushka - Russian for big mouth 


	5. The Fire Prince

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Chapter Five: The Fire Prince   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
January 14, 2003 5:12 p.m., in my shared room  
  
Good grief. I was up in the mountains since I needed to talk to Peter, when guess who answered the door.   
Magneto.  
And did he look surprised.  
"Come to say dues, have you X-men?" he said in this really scary, miffed voice. I rolled my eyes and looked past him.  
"First off, it's X-MAN and you're not scaring anyone," I said, still trying to look past him. "And second, I have no dues with you, Magnny, so you could just..."  
Then he picked me up by my steel choker and started choking me with it.  
"Then what do you want?" he asked. I still wasn't intimidated. Then from behind, someone said, "Put her down," and I saw Peter come out wearing the same sad, stoney face he was famous for. Magneto stopped, sneered, and went back inside. The door closed and disappeared against the snow.  
"Xavier should build something like that," I muttered, and found Peter looking at me. His gloomy face was sullen.  
"You're 'ere for me, eh?" he asked, stuffing his humongous hands into his torn jacket. I nodded, glancing up at his pallid face.  
"It's about, er, your gifts," I said, pushing aside my guilt. Peter took a swift glance at me and huffed. Almost immediately, I saw his shoulders sag, which told me everything.   
"She doesn't like them," he said, so sadly I felt my own heart break and brought a hand to pat his arm.  
"No, it's not that, she loves them," I reassured him, but he looked doubtful. "It's just that, her boyfriend, Lance Alvers, he doesn't like you giving anything to her."  
Peter looked depressed. "St. John was right," he said, his voice tearing, "Maybe it's wrong to play with love."  
"No, you're not playing anything, especially love," I told him sternly. "It's just that you've grasped something you can't hold. Something that's..." He looked at me with grimacing eyes. My words were stabbing him, and I quickly returned to silence. "Sorry," I mumbled and heard him huff gently.  
"Good night, Rogue," he said, and walked back into the invisible dome. I stared after him.  
Gosh, he's the only person that can actually make me feel sorry for.  
  
January 15, 2003 12:30 - World Civ  
  
People have also heard about Scott's daring attempt on his life. And remember Duncan? He's gone. Transferred.  
  
January 16, 2003 5:30 p.m., my shared room  
  
Another practice for the wedding. Everyone was there, much to Jean's delight. I was, once again, trampling down the aisle with John by my side, which gave me enough time to rasp everything from him telling Remy what I said about the wedding to what Peter told me yesterday. He mustered a few replies and I knew none were meant. I frowned at him.  
"You're very discouraging, you know that, John? Peter trusts you, not to mention me! You can't just break something so valuable like that..." I tried to reason. John frowned back at me.  
"I know. I'm sick and tired of always being the bad guy..." Then he walked out, on me, on the practice, and boy, was Jean fuming. She started screaming and Kitty suggested I get John back or else she'll create havoc. I hurried out and found John standing by the brook which leads to Clairemont's, his head down and lips pouted. I crossed my arms and turned my head to look at him sideways.   
"John, you'd better get back inside. People - Jean - will start to worry and you know what that means," I said, tightening my black coat around myself. John turned to me, the fire relentless in his eyes.  
"It's wrong. You know it, right?" he asked. I furrowed my brow, confused.  
"What are you talking about?"   
"Da wedding," he said simply and pushed himself away from the brick bridge. I came over and stood next to him.   
"Yes," I answered, blandly. He glanced at me swiftly, and I sighed. "But I guess I've learned to deal with it. If they want to throw their lives away for each other, then let them. No use in trying to stop them."   
I was surprised to find John gawking at me. "Those are some new words, Sheila," he muttered, mustering his Aussie lingo. I smirked at that and he turned back toward the church.  
"We should go. Jean will get mad," he reasoned. I smiled.  
"I think she already is." And no surprise, she was screaming her head off. Practice ended early and I walked with John to Clairemont's, since he promised me a cup of coffee. On our way there, I noticed the accordion player was singing and remembered how Remy clobbered him the last time. And when we sat down with our coffee, John actually paid the guy to sing a song!   
Talk about annoying.  
So there I sat, drinking my bland coffee (they had banned self service since my last visit) while John talked about Magneto and Peter and Remy and that stupid accordion player with that song once more. That was it. I stood up, pushed him over the brook and quickly walked away. John, seeing me do so, rushed to my side and ran with me until we were clear out of Clairemont's and passing Ivory. John was the first to speak.  
"Why- pant- Why did you do THAT?!" he sounded shocked. I caught my breath and gave him a wry look.  
"Do I ~look~ like I want an Italian psychotic freelancer to be breathing down my neck wile singing "Bella Notte" accompanied with that annoyingly pitched accordion around his neck?!"   
His eyes grew wide with surprise. Then he laughed. Long and loud. I stood there, dumbfounded, until I figured better and started to walk away. He followed.  
"Where are you going?" he asked, anxiously. I rolled my eyes.  
"Xavier's Institute," I answered and much to my malicious animosity, John still followed.  
"Why?"   
"Maybe because it's my home?!" It was a better answer than most. He suddenly grabbed my arm and gave me a concerned look.  
"The reason why I was laughing," he started, his eyes burning with iridescent fire, "is because you sounded so much of what Remy would ..er.. say." He noticed my frown and grinned at my minor indisposition.  
"That's -deplorable-," I snapped, and he laughed. I leaned back, facing him while standing on one leg, and felt my own mouth grin. We walked in silence back to the mansion, where he stopped and while I was punching the numbers in, fingered the gate longingly.   
"How does it feel, to be, um, kept behind a gate, away from… people?" he asked, unknowing. I gave him a understanding smile.  
"The same way it feels when you take a step toward the world and Magneto keeps you inside." He stared at me, reflecting on this sudden vindication and looked back to the mansion.  
"Maybe..er.." his words were unsteady. I opened the gate, and entered, closing it slightly. "...I had really, lots of fun today. Perhaps...we can...do it another time?" I looked at him with a underlying stare.   
"Perhaps," I said, my mouth giving him a sugary smile. He then caught my hand through the bars and held it. Giving it a solemn squeeze, he let it drop and I walked away, feeling his eyes on me the entire stretch back.   
It's weird. I've never been asked at such wrought manner and yet... so rewarding.  
  
Later, 7:12 p.m.  
  
John called. We arranged to meet tomorrow at 7p.m. He'll pick me up.  
Darn. I smiling with ashamed bliss.  
  
January 17, 2003 5:45 p.m., on the top stair of the staircase  
  
I'm soberly intent on not trying to let anyone else find out.   
Today, Jean had brought in all the famous chocolates in the world - Hershey's, Almond Roca, geez, you name it - it was Choc Paradise as Kurt munched, Kitty tried, and Remy stood back, aghast the midst of calories and refined coco aroma, watching with an imperious eye and smart tongue.  
And I was oblivious, of course, until I happened to come downstairs from my lofty shared room and stepped into an uproarious HELL.  
But besides that fact, I was surprised to find them all at the dining table, with mounds of See's wrappers and mint paper on the ground and table. Not to mention, a bit jealous that no one told me of this.   
"Hello Rogue!" Jean called from the dining room, her back against some chairs and arms filled with boxes of chocolate, "thinking of joining us in sampling the gift favors for my guests?"  
I glanced at her, reflected on the offer, and entered the room. My eyes traveled to the chocolate, to those seated, then to Remy and back to the table.   
Could I say Chocolate Haven?  
"Where'd you get all these?" I asked, horrified with pleasure. I picked up an Almond Roca and popped it into my mouth, letting the chocolate melt slowly on my tongue.   
Jean saw my deluged face of satisfaction and grinned. "Free samples. It's a wonder how people could just give so many boxes to people who wait by the door..."  
"And beg," concluded Kitty. Jean gave her a hard stare.  
"I wasn't -begging- ," she said with a harsh tone, "just simply asking people to spare some chocolate."  
"They thought her desperate," Kurt explained, and gave me sad puppy eyes, "Please mister," he imitated Jean, "spare the chocolate for me." That earned him a simple whack to the head.  
Remy had not said anything. He just stood there, his face wrinkled into an expressionless disposition. I swaggered a quick look and smiled.   
"Thanks for the chocolate," I told Jean and was about to go, when Jean called me back.   
"Hey Rogue," she said, planting more samples on the table," Remy and I are going to catch the late night flicks tonight down at Holly's Drive. Like to come along? It starts at seven."  
I was thinking of just blowing it off like that, when I figured I should just come clean with the truth.  
"Can't," I said, picking up another Almond Roca. "I've got to be somewhere."  
"Where?" Kitty asked, impishly. I gave her a raised eyebrow.   
"Date," I said, casually. When I looked up at them, they were all appalled. "What?!" I asked, hurt. "Why do you all look surprised?"  
"Because - we are," Kurt declared. I could almost feel the blood rising to my head.  
"What? You don't think I could go on a date?!" I asked. Jean shook her head and brightened her smile.  
"With who?" her voice was of curiosity. I stole a look at Remy and found his mouth slightly open. My own mouth slid into a simple smile.  
"John." Jean clasped her hands to her neck.  
"Oh my GOD Rogue! I knew it!" she threw her arms around me, and I didn't push her back. Trust me, it surprised me more now than it did then.  
"Where are you going?" Kitty asked, interested. I told her I wasn't sure, but he said he made some reservations some where and Kurt said it better not be at a hotel. I laughed, blushing.   
"I'll see," I said, and left the kitchen. But not before stealing another look at Remy. He had put his head down and was shaking it slowly.  
IN YOUR FACE, LEBEAU.   
Gosh, that finally said, maybe I can have some peace. Better get ready.   
Reminder to myself: must ask Kitty if I can borrow her brown tunic.   
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Ha! Ha! Ha! Things are taking a scary twist. Now you get my gist of why I have two chapters for you! I'll be accepting reviews, thank you very much. 


	6. The Reason

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Chapter Six: The Reason  
Author's Note: This should be long enough to call it a chapter. I named it after the song recorded by Celine Dion since it's sad and sensible for this story. No humor here, just angsty angst. I think that's what you get while trying to write and watch "Minority Report" at the same time. Enjoy!  
Warning: Some violent subjects. John and Lance become foes. No real romance. But only for this chapter *you can stop holding your breaths*   
  
January 18, 2003 2:22 a.m., in my bed   
  
I feel terrible. You know that gut-wrenching feeling that you get when you know that you've broken your mother's grandmother's vase or when you lost your pet's chew toy?   
Well, I don't, considering I never really had those things.   
But to be certain, I'm literally below anything from this point forward.  
My date was a disaster. I mean, it was great for the first fifteen minutes, and then it was interrupted, I got slammed into a wall, and finally caught in the rain. Of course, that was after the first marvelous, most spectacular minutes (sarcasm here) I had with John. Before HELL became a reality. Well, at least for me.  
It all started with John. He didn't pick me up in a Ferrari or a Volkswagen or even a modest station wagon.   
He walked.   
Okay, I'm not really used to the dating bonanza, but I knew for a fact that when he doesn't come in a car, there's something up.   
And there was something up - he wants to ~talk~.   
So there I stood, with the brown tunic and black skirt, waiting and then all of a sudden, there's this knock and I answer it. It's John, of course, and he's got roses and a great, big smile on his gallant face. Then I took the roses, put them aside, and walked proudly out to discover - he had no ride. He explained that Magneto wouldn't let him take the jet and started going into these really big excuses, until I shushed him up and told him it's a great day to walk anyway.  
The restaurant was Vianne Seaux - a small eatery that served Italian food. It wasn't far from the Institute at all (five blocks at the most) and sat off the corner square of Magnolia Gardens. He had made reservations like he said, and we were seated in the middle, a candle and single flower in between us. While it all, John was still talking about himself and I wasn't really listening to him, and then heard, "and the fact that I came to Magneto and met Remy and Peter made all the difference." when I heard the door suddenly clang open. Everyone in the restaurant looked up (there weren't many people actually) to see Peter, standing there, his cloak wet with rain, a look of terror on his face. He moved away from the front door, passed the reservation administrator, and plopped himself down at our table (but of course asking to join first).  
John was outraged. "Peter," he hissed, "what do you ~think~ you are doing?!"   
Peter looked at him with a hard eye. "I need to speak wit Miss Rogue."   
John was annoyed with such a request. "Now?! Can't you see we're in the middle of something?!" he moved his hands, palms up, across the table. I held my own hand up.  
"No, John," I said, reaching for his hand, "it's okay." And turning to Peter, said, "What's going on? What's so important..."  
Peter didn't even let me finish. "Rogue," he rasped, "Koshka's boy friend..."  
"Koshka?" I rose an eyebrow. Peter closed his eyes, trying to find the American word.  
"Kitty's boy friend - he knows!" I looked at him, concerned.  
"Knows what?" I asked. Suddenly, there was a violent shaking, and everyone is thrown off their chairs. I yelled at John to get everyone out, knowing Lance was there.   
"He knows it's me." With those final words of Peter, the front door was knocked over, and Lance appeared, his face streaking with sweat, not to mention anger.  
"You!" he pointed to Peter with a sick trace of malice. Peter automatically forced his metal plates upon his body and I watched horrified and unable to move. Lance took a step forward; the ground shook.  
"This whole time, I thought it was that fuzzy ELF or that spiked LIZARD in that mansion with her. And do you know how many nights I went without sleep," -he broke a vase here- "thinking that some dude is up there possibly f**king my Cat?!"   
Peter's face was unmoved. I watched, in wonderment, trying to see how much of a mess Peter was in.  
"And then I come home," -he raised a piece of paper in his scrawny fingers with a damned look on his face, "and find THIS and it all said it here." He opened the note, and read in a sickening voice, "Piotr is up to all this. Stop him if you can." He looked up, and I saw a brilliant fire burn in the depths of those unleaded eyes of his. "And damn right I will!"   
By then, everyone but Peter, John, Lance, and I were left in the small, about to be torn apart restaurant. Realizing this, I threw myself at Lance, intending to absorb some of his powers, but he split the ground, flinging me against the wall behind us. Peter came to my defense and tossed a hard fist at Lance. He flew threw the door frame and laid there, strewn with blood running down his face. When he tried to get up, John had placed a foot on his torso, and I heard him say:  
"Now, mate. Why you have to go believe so dumb note like that? I'm the darn guy you're lookin' for! Yup, you're looking at the bonifide Sheila jumper right in the eye. I'll be doing none like you think, you ground rockin' caper, and I'll know better now that I've seen what you gone and done to Rogue and to make Peter throw a punch to knock you off your rocker! I'll say. Now," he held out a hand to help Lance up, "make loose ends meet?" Lance pushed his hand away, and got himself up. By then, all the blood had been washed away, and he stood, giving us all a grimacing look of defeat. He walked away without another act or talk of malevolence.   
Peter helped me up and John joined us all. He gave him a scolding glance.  
"See what I told you!" he said, shaking his head, "You could've got Rogue killed and possibly us all! Don't you see how much your wit and your ignorance is making us all suffer? I rather.."   
"Oh, shut up John!" I cried, taking Peter's arm. He stopped, his mouth hanging in mid-sentence. There was an awkward silence before John turned around and walked away without another thought to stay.   
I watched after him, thinking how merciless he was until I noticed Peter's face splashed with tears. He had changed back to himself again, shaking, and I knew he thought better of all of this.   
"I never meant to hurt him," he said, slowly. I took his arm and walked him out of the restaurant. Rain was pouring, and I remember how steely it looked - like Peter's tears.  
"I know, Petey, I know." We stood there, side by side, and watched carefully the fleeting cars. Soon, news crews and police cars would board up the place. I notified him of this and heard him sigh with despair. I offered to walk him back to Magneto's, but he said that he'd be fine. Then he offered to take me back, but I refused, even without a hood or an umbrella, and we walked our separate ways through the shallow rain.   
It was a long way back. The tunic was drenched and blotchy as it stuck to my skin; my black skirt wet with pitiless rain. My hair sunk and caught against my face and neck while my boots got soaked and my make-up was a mess.  
My whole life is a mess, come to think of it.  
Then half way down another block or so, a car came to my side and rolled down the window.  
It was Remy, and he was in Scott's car with the cloth hood up.   
"Get in!" he told me sternly, and I obeyed, seating myself while drenched to the skin against the leather. I put my hands on my face and frowned. The rest of the way was quiet until we were parked in the garage. Sitting there amidst the silence, I could hear Remy's breathing, the darkness separating us both. Then he spoke.  
"Everything all right?"   
The question was bold, almost as though it was meant. I felt tears rise to my eyes once more. The real nightmare was that I found myself crying silently in front of the guy - crying about everything: my life, John, Peter, the wedding, Kitty, Remy, even Lance. Crying because I couldn't answer; I couldn't say, no, everything's not all right because of you. You are the reason I love and yet you choose to ignore that justified fact.   
Then I unlocked the door and bolted out, my tears mixing with the rain. Ran and stayed in the bathroom, cried some more, came out semi-dry and worn, changed and tried to sleep (which is hard when you're half dry and depressed). So I resort to you, and so on and so forth.  
The same crap playing over and over again.   
Kitty, I've found, hasn't moved from her bed, completely oblivious to everything. 


	7. A Perfect Bad Day

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Chapter Seven: A Perfect Bad Day  
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January 18, 2003 9:12 p.m., in my shared room  
  
I woke up this morning to the voice of Kurt, the blue fuzzy one. His voice was loud and shrill, almost like Kitty's. I shuddered as he called me up and said good morning.  
"I brought you breakfast," he declared, carrying in a tray of food. I sat up, half awake and looked at the clock. 8 a.m. I remember frowning at him.   
"I could get up by myself, ya know," I notified him, and he shook his head. Propping me up with a pillow behind my back, he dropped the tray down on my lap. It was breakfast alright, complete with orange juice, milk, two slices of toast, and cereal. I stared at it dimly, wondering why he had brought it up.  
Kurt read my thoughts and answered, "Logan thought you should have it in bed. He thought things were tough for you lately and didn't want to see you stressed."  
"Or he didn't want to see me at all," I mumbled. Kurt glanced at me, sternly, and poured syrup on my toast. I looked on, wondering if Remy had told anyone about last night.   
Kurt again, read my thoughts. "No one has seen Remy. Though we know he picked you up."  
"How?" the question was deliberate. Again, Kurt gave me that definite stern look and said, "He and Jean came home early from the flick show last night. Something about not seeing anything good. Then when we turned on the T.V., there was news on every channel, saying there was a disturbance in the area and," he balled his fists here- "it was caused by mutants."  
I looked at him, sadly. There was questioning in his eye, but I tensed and ignored it. No joy in having been defeated right then and there.  
"Things...got out of hand," I muttered, and Kurt shrugged.  
"So then Remy said he'd go and look for you and Jean offered to come, but he said he'd be all right and left." Again, the questions arose in his eyes and I looked away. "It's all over the news and paper."   
I started eating after that, and Kurt teleported out, to say the least. He turned on the T.V. before he left, so there I sat, watching and listening to people cry and the owners cursing "those stupid mutants".  
It was like a flashback of the night and I didn't even have to die.   
My next visitor was Jean, and to say anything more, she had brought coffee for me. I guess Logan didn't want to send caffeine to me.  
She was actually annoyed.  
Giving me the coffee, she hugged me, said I looked fine and when I didn't say anything back, left.  
Sipping the coffee (it was black), I heard a small squeak, and when I looked up, saw Kitty, leaning on the doorframe with a look of tyranny in her eyes.  
"Xavier is making Lance pay for damages," she squeaked in this demented tone. I sipped my coffee and downed it without sputtering.  
"Well, all of the damages ARE his fault."   
"I tried calling him." Her tone was menacing. "He, like, won't pick up." I saw a shimmer of gold on her neck.   
The necklace. From Peter. I guess he had left it somewhere so that Kitty could find it. I sipped again, this time commencing on how strong the coffee really was.  
"Nice necklace," I said, and Kitty brought her fingers to it. She gave me a small smile. "It's not from Lance." Her smile disappeared.  
A glint of animosity glimmered on her face as she tore it from her neck like a revolting snake about to choke her. I glared at it, my eyes bulging in their sockets.  
"You just didn't-" I started. But Kitty wouldn't have any of it.   
"I -told- you to tell whoever is sending me these gifts to STOP!" her voice was deluded with shrieks. Then she ran from the room, in tears.  
Sipping the coffee comfortably, I muttered to the air, "But I did."  
  
Later, 10:30   
  
I walked over to the phone that sat by the corner of Kitty's bed and pressed the 'messages' button. Thirty-one in all. And not surprisingly, all from John, pleading to give him a second chance. I saw no reason, deleted them all, and jumped back in bed.  
  
12:39, waiting for the bus  
  
Finally felt like coming downstairs, dressed and called Ritzy. She said she'd come over to pick me up and I told her I'd wait by the door. Like last night.   
Shaking off the memories, I stood, awkwardly surveying the pictures around the room. Xavier has a dozen alone in the main room. There's a picture of all of the new recruits, the girls, the adults, and then us. I smiled, remembering how each was taken. It was a mess since nobody wanted to snap the picture or ruin it with their powers. But they actually turned out pretty well.  
I heard a small rustle from behind and guess who stood there, arms crossed and cold stare tending to penetrate me.  
Not Remy, but Evan.  
I looked at him with an expressionless face, my mind screaming to smirk and comment, but I pasted my lips together and said not a word. He was the first to break the silence.  
"Why'd you do that," he said, his tone so low I almost couldn't hear it.  
"Do what?" I asked - astounded by how I sounded casual. I saw his jaw clench beneath the brown of his skin.  
"Make another bad name for the mutants?" his question was deplorable. I felt the blood rise to my head for the second time that week.  
"I -didn't-, Lance did," I said, and heard a horn beep. Without another word, I quickly turned the knob and stepped outside. The air was chilly - the thermometer read 6 degrees- but it was the air of emancipation from the sharp stabs of painful persecutions I had foresworn my fellow mutants into.   
But then, I was free.  
I got into Ritzy's car, shivering. She glanced at me and sped out of the mansion's gate.  
"Everything fine, Rogue?" she asked, and I looked ahead of myself, noting her tone.  
"You're bold to ask such," I told her. Her face was dense, as if chilled to stay that way.  
"I called last night. You were out?" I looked at her, realizing I failed to notify her of my date. And then, all of a sudden, I didn't care anymore.  
"No, I guess I was sleeping," I lied. I saw Ritzy's brow furrow and she glared ahead with careful examination.  
"You're lying." Her accusation was immense. I stared at her sideways.  
"What makes you think I --" Then she grabbed something from behind her and dropped it on my lap. It was the Bayville Tribune, with a picture of the damaged Vianne Seaux amidst the falling rain. And faintly, my face in the window. I gawked at it for a moment and read the article aloud. "...happened last night at Magnolia Gardens, four mutants, three male and a fourth female, battled in.." Surprised, I glanced at Ritzy, only to find she had locked her jaw with hard parsimony.   
"You're lying," she repeated, her voice dense.   
Silence. Deathly silence. It was the silence that comes and echoes in your ear when a switchblade is held to your neck. That kind of silence.  
"You never told me you were a mutant." With this confrontation, I slumped back down on my chair, suddenly feeling warm with embarrassment.  
"I didn't think you'd understand," I said, quietly. She gripped the wheel, hard.  
"Understand?! I'm your friend Rogue, it only makes sense to tell me these things!" her voice rang in my ears like a droning bell. I closed my eyes, trying to figure out what to say.  
"I was afraid of how you would take it," I muttered. Then I looked at her hard. "You aren't taking it very well."   
"Of course not! You never told me..." at that she pulled over and I had a glimpse of the street sign: Vale Barrens.   
We were well out of Bayville.   
"Get out." Her words were casual yet strong and angered. I hesitated, wishing she would take them back, but grabbed the handle and obeyed. Then she drove off, without another thought to come back.  
My best friend ~left~ me.  
In six degree's weather, she left me. Now, I have the option of walking back to Bayville or waiting for the bus. Come to think of it, I should best walk on foot so no one would notice me and call the police.  
This gets worse by the minute, doesn't it?  
  
7:17 p.m., walking  
  
It has started to snow. I feel like crying, but I'm afraid my tears will get stuck on my face. The worst part is, no one knows where I am - I don't even know!! Street lamps glisten and I can hear the wind blow underneath my coat.  
Best friend my butt. No best friend leaves you to walk home more than a dozen miles away in 6 degree weather.   
  
7:24 p.m. still walking  
  
I can't go on. It's too cold. That, and I can't see the time anymore. I can hardly write. I've just stumbled upon Bob's Pub. Hope none of them have seen the paper. Or is too stupid to recognize my face in the picture. Well, here goes nothing.  
  
12:35 a.m., in my shared room  
  
You cannot believe how much serendipity I have right now. I stumbled inside, the wind picking up and the snow becoming heavier, and closed the door almost instantly. Trying not to make much eye contact, I slid into the nearest seat and started scowling and trying to get warm. The pub was loosely lit, the smell of liquor tantalizing in its wake. The clinking of glasses was common and I heard a few shouts and gulps as people staggered in and out. I was lucky to remain unnoticed until someone came to my table, obviously wanting to buy me a drink.  
"No thanks," I muttered, trying to get him away. But the guy persisted.   
"Aw, now," he said, in this childish manner, "afraid of getting drunk?"   
"No," I said, lowly. Then he slid into the seat across from me! I lowered my hood, hoping to shield my identity, but the man caught my gloved hand. He gave it a slight squeeze, and I gasped, remembering. Looking up, I recognized my soon to be savior - John!!  
I can't remember a time where I was more relieved to see anyone in my life. He slid in next to me and asked what I was doing here and I just told him to shut up and cried into him. I didn't tell him anything, though. Just cried and cried and finally, when I was done crying, wallowed enough courage to swallow a shot of whiskey, and then I guess, fell asleep. When I awoke, though, John was helping me up, said it was closing time, and led me out. And though it was about midnight with the air stilled with cold, the snow had stopped and the wind had died. John wrapped his own cloak around me and helped me into what I guessed was Magneto's black car (I didn't ask where he managed to get the keys).  
He let me fall asleep again, and when he woke me up once more, we were parked outside the gate. Hustling a bit, he asked for the numbers (I think I told him, since he got in), and then he stopped the car again, ready to get out. When he was about to click his side door open, I pulled his arm and told him not now. I saw his smirk and heard the door shut.   
Then, silence.  
"Are we here?" I remember asking, sleepily. I felt his arm slide around me.  
"Yes." Another silence. I leaned into him, again. The more I think about it, the more I realize it all was really comforting. Finally, he told me that I should go, and carried me out.   
I don't remember anything else, expect awaking in my own bed. Dern that whiskey.  
  
January 19, 2003 5:45 a.m., in my shared room  
  
I was in the bathroom, throwing up from the shot of whiskey I had the night before, when I paused, gasping for air beside the toilet and heard a shifting of the feet. Afraid someone had heard me, I flushed the toilet and got hold of the counter, before somebody took hold under my arm and said, "Easy, easy, there, Rogue."   
I turned, swiftly, too fast for my own head. I held back another vomit and after rinsing my mouth, I leaned against the sink, soberly.   
"Well, somebody's been drinking." It wasn't Logan. I felt an arm around me and caught a glint of shining red.  
Remy. The last person I wanted to be in the bathroom with me, after I'd just vomited.  
"It's not what you think," I muttered, and he shushed me, his hand coming to my head and making me lean against his chest. He rocked me back and forth and I remembering hoping he'd never let me go, that all these problems would just go away. He broke the silence though, whispering why didn't I call. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.  
"Why don't you's tell Remy 'bout tonight, huh chere," he crooned, and I exhaled. My breath formed a cloud and I frowned.  
I told him. Everything.  
I told him how angry Evan was with me, about Ritzy and how she left me in the snow to walk home fourteen miles away, and how I met John at Bob's Pub and how he took me home. Then I felt Remy's arms tighten around me and I slid my head between the nook of his neck, standing like that for a while longer before he scooped me up and carried me back to my bed. Kitty was still sleeping when he laid me down, and for a moment he stayed, his arms still around me. Then I saw his eyes glimmer mysterious scarlet and he lowered his head, his breath on my ear.  
"How was John?" the question still looms in my head. I was taken aback for a second and found the moment resentful. His tone was placed like a solemn warning upon deaf ears. I traced the denseness of his face with my eyes and found it almost comforting.   
Not like this, I thought of answering.   
Then Remy hoisted himself up and I took a long look at him and thought of him like that of a soldier going to battle, whose life was about to be lost.   
I knew for some reason, I fell in love with Remy all over again.  
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" I asked. Remy glared at me and grinned, making me relaxed.  
"Remy won tell eh soul." Then he left. Just like that.   
Just like that.   
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Gecko: Aw, I'm sorry that I won't be able to hear from you again! But I don't think Lance is evil (at least, necessarily). It's very protective of him to go and beat up the person who's trying to squeeze between them. Kitty should feel loved.  
Starlightz6: Yes, the ol' I'll-get-yo-someday phrase has really caught up to that Remy of a shumck. And I'm sorry that you can't access Chapter 4... what I DO know is that it does exist...but I don't think you've missed much..  
Carla: Thank you so much for putting my story on your favorite's list! Gosh, if I had a nickel everytime I said that... Anyway, I'm glad that you like the defenseless side of Rogue. I mean, c'mon! We need to be realistic. Evo doesn't show it all.  
Pyromaniac: Yes, poor everyone. I was a bit critical on what you'd say (figuring your pen name has Pyro in it), but well, John will get a better face next chapter. And thank you as well for putting my story on your favorite's list! Wow, you're not a RoLo fan? O.o Hmph, guess I've been enclosed in my own world long enough. Everyone's gotta different liking, and I ask, why Hank? Just a thought.  
Erica: I hope everything you're wondering was answered in this chapters. And I think I've started to put more Romy fluff since I keep getting suggestions on how things would be better off with them together..but ya never know.  
Christy S: I just got through reading your lastest review and went, Hold the phone! This whole chapter is worst than the last! But I promise, things should be better in let's say, oh, February?  
theroguepheonix: They -might- end up together, or there's a slight chance John can end up with Rogue. Depends on what mood I'm in (J/K)  
Evolutionary Spider: Duncan reeks of bad karma. I had to get rid of him. That and because I thought people would be going, "Where's Duncan?" I don't know. Maybe I'll get rid of Scott next. You mean, Remy, right (your last review)?   
Evilbon32: Thank you! Though, I have seen a commerical for X:Men Evo this Saturday. Must tape.. And I agree. Remy deserves what Jean throws at him...maybe even more. Again, I'm glad you kept up with this story and hope to hear from you, from all of you, again soon!  
Me: I'm so glad you got my gist on how Lance would actually act. I was planning on making people see that side and rage. And I've never heard of Katja, but Koshka in Russian means female cat. 


	8. Sick Holiday

Snow in April: A Wedding Story   
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Chapter Eight: Sick Holiday   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
January 20, 2003 10:54 p.m.   
  
Ack. I just walked into Logan's room to ask him something, and found Ororo half covered with his sheets and him about to take his pants off.  
Somebody forgot to lock the door.  
Ororo screamed and I covered my eyes. Logan, growling, shut the door in my face.  
Consider me blind for now on.   
  
January 21, 2003 9:42 a.m.   
  
I thought I was okay. Really.   
Now, it turns out I'm sick. I go to school today and start sneezing up a storm. Ms. Fielton sent me to the nurse's where she felt my forehead and fell to the floor. I absorbed, screamed, and kept sneezing. Xavier came to pick me up and said to forget about it.   
I'm still sick.  
  
10:24 a.m.   
  
This is so sad. I have a -fever- now!! I bet it was seeing too much in one day yesterday. I won't get over that any time soon. Why couldn't my sneezing just be due to allergies?   
  
10:33 a.m.  
  
Temperature: 99.1  
Prescribed by Xavier: Cough Syrup. Dimetapp. Tylenol. I have a headache.  
  
11:10 a.m.   
  
Just looked at the clock and can't believe it. It's not even noon and I'm heating up like a turkey in the oven! This is NOT good.  
Temperature: 100.0   
WHAT IS GOING ON!!??  
  
12:48 p.m.   
  
I went to sleep and woke up to see Logan, who was wearing gloves. I wasn't the tiniest bit relieved, except for the fact that he was wearing clothes. But that was it. He came to my side and frowned. He said I'd be better off sick than anything else, and I threw the covers over my head so I wouldn't have to see him. That's all.   
  
Temperature: Didn't look. I'm tired.  
  
12:55 p.m.   
  
Temperature: 100.2   
Something is definitely wrong with this thermometer.   
  
1:31 p.m.  
  
Xavier woke me up since he's supposed to give me medicine every four hours. I can't go back to sleep - started shivering. And I'm breaking a cold sweat. This is really what I needed.  
  
1:52 p.m.   
  
Ororo came in. She looked unsure in entering first, but forced herself and sat next to me. Said she couldn't tell if I was really sick or not since she couldn't touch my forehead. I told her it was okay, and I wasn't really THAT uncomfortable with the image of her and Logan... and she got up and bolted out of my room.  
Life is good.   
  
Temperature: 100.2   
Why won't it go down? Yuck, I just sneezed all over the T.V.  
  
2:24 p.m.  
  
How could I get so sick? I was fine on Monday! Maybe all that snow and cold caught up to me. O.o Xavier just came in with chicken soup.  
  
2:32 p.m.   
  
Just survived a lecture. Xavier told me I shouldn't get sick like this since my powers and everything and that I should finish the chicken soup because Scott was downstairs asking for some. I told Xavier to screw him over. He raised his eyebrows, told me I delirious from all the medicine, and left.   
  
3:10 pm.  
  
Kurt came in. He's not mad at me like everyone else is. He said people were asking about me today and I told him that maybe it's because my picture is in the paper. He shut up, gave me hot water and left.   
Temperature: 100.4   
This is SO not cool.  
  
3:14 p.m.  
  
Found out Kitty refuses to sleep in the same room since she's worried she'll get sick.  
I say, grow up.  
  
5:13 p.m.  
  
Slept; woke up to the sound of the phone ringing.  
It was John.   
He said Remy told him I was sick and wanted to know if I was okay. I told him I'll live. He said that was good and told me to get some sleep. Then he hung up.   
Great conversation.  
  
6:30 - 9:52 p.m. Temperature Contradictions  
  
100. 2 ~ 6:30  
99.5 ~ 7:00  
100.5 ~ 7:15  
100.3 ~ 8:00 Took more medicine  
100.1 ~ 8:23  
100.8 ~ 9:00 WHAT?!  
100.7 ~ 9:32  
100.6 ~ 9:45   
101.0 ~ 9:52 one word. Impossible!!  
  
10:45 p.m.   
  
Kitty moved out. She's going to spend the night in Jean's room. Whatever. At least she took the stupid night light she keeps by her bed. It's a wonder how I ever get to sleep with it at 44 watts. And it's the size of my thumb.   
  
11:34 p.m.  
  
Logan gave me another blanket, told me to shut up about yesterday, and left once more. Thanks a lot, Logan. Thanks a lot.  
  
Midnight  
  
I woke up again, waiting for someone to come and give me medicine. I got bored and started turning myself upside down waiting for the blood to go to my head and come upright again. I did that a few times before I caught sight of someone standing by the doorway and got myself upright. Turning swiftly, I coughed and saw two red eyes glaring at me. I smiled as Remy came and sat at the foot of my bed.   
"Prof. said t' bring up dis stuff," he said, showing me the pills and syrup. I took the pills hastily from his hand and downed them with the water he had brought up as well. I saw the familiar glint of amusement in his eye and grinned. Taking the rest of my medicine, I saw him wince and asked him what.   
"Why do you's have t' take so much?" he asked. I asked why? and he shook his head. I nodded with a smirk.   
"I notice. You hardly ever get sick." He grinned back - beautiful and carefree. Then Remy took my gloved hand and kissed my palm with plain pity. He whispered for me to get better and left.   
It all just made me want to cry so bad.  
  
January 22, 2003 7:45 a.m., English  
  
I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get back to school. That and because I didn't want another lecture from Logan or Ororo or Xavier. Pulled on my clothes and just ran out the back door. Then made a break for it. Ran all the way to school, my breath caught in my throat.   
And that's what I'm doing here right now.   
  
9:37 a.m., on my way to French  
  
Jean saw me in the hallway and pulled Remy's sleeve (he was walking next to her) in shock. I immediately ducked behind some people and made my way to the girl's room. And guess who I stumbled on... Ritzy.   
She was applying lipstick, and when she saw me, quickly tossed everything into her cosmetic bag and pranced out of there. I swear, I saw her kick up her feet on the way out.   
Please, somebody kick her.   
  
10:39 a.m., French  
  
Uh oh. I'm breaking out in a cold sweat again. I knew I should've packed some Tylenol or something. Please...just six more hours.   
GoD, that's long.  
  
11:00 a.m., still French  
  
I'm okay. I mean, I've been okay for a very long time, and I think I can make it. Nobody's noticed I'm sweating like crazy. Even Remy, who sits two rows away from me. Please God, don't make him come over and chat with me. I'll literally fall over and die. And not for any of his hotness purposes too.   
Damn, this was a mistake from the start.  
  
11:32 a.m., Lunch  
  
I'm sitting alone right now. Ritzy, I noticed, has ditched school again. No one wants to sit with me, not even my boarding mates. I'm still sweating. I think I'll make my way to the nurse again.   
  
11:42 a.m., waiting outside the nurse's office  
  
This is SO not child friendly.   
Here I am, sweating cold and coughing like I have a cat caught in my throat, and the nurse doesn't even care!  
She's in there, eating HER lunch while I sit out here about to DIE and she can care less! What kind of nurse is she anyway?! She's supposed to help me! Not eat while I slowly die! This is cruel. It's inhuman. It's plainly understated.   
  
12:22 p.m., walking home  
  
I couldn't take it anymore. I signed myself out, forged Xavier's signature and walked out. It's actually really easy to slip away unseen, especially if you don't pass the principal's window. Just a few blocks more... watch. I'm going to die and nobody would know. Or even care. This sucks SO much.  
  
3:43 p.m., under my pillow.  
  
Xavier's mad.   
And when I mean mad, I mean furious.  
YOU'VE never seen him angry. NOBODY'S seen him angry. Everyone thinks he's calm. Everyone thinks he's temperal. Everyone has never pissed him off.   
I mean, he's more patient than me to everything from getting stabbed to listening to Dave Matthews. He's even patient to Scott.   
But, I've pushed him. Far enough, it seems.   
When I came in, he was screaming. Screaming. You just know that doesn't counteract with Xavier. It's not even in his vocabulary. Usually, it's whatever he has in mind that's not in our vocabulary. I guess I founded a new word in his.  
He cornered me with that wheelchair of his and started screaming about finding me gone, worrying, sending Logan and Ororo to look for me, thinking of calling the police, blah, blah, blah. Then I ran. He threatened to come up and scream some more. I just slammed the door and fell on the floor.   
That's right, fell. I didn't even drop on my knees or any of that. I felt them go out under me and I fell. Laid there for a few minutes, sweat falling on the carpet underneath.   
I remember looking at the ceiling and counting invisible stars or sheep or whatever (I only know they were white) and finally climbed on my bed and passed out. For two long minutes I pretended I was comatosed. I might as well be anyway. Then, when all seemed lost and when I really thought I was dead, somebody came and put some pills in my mouth, making me swallow with some water.   
Two minutes later, I snapped back to reality.   
Kurt was hovering over me when I finally focused straight.   
"Are you okay?" he asked me. I closed my eyes and turned on my side.   
"I'll be fine," I finally told him and heard him leave.  
That was when I realized I was alive. Still alive. Kurt was my savior. But now that I think of it, how many saviors can a person have in one life?   
Well, I guess I'm a lucky person then.  
  
Temperature: 101.5 Sheesh  
  
Midnight  
  
When I woke up, I found Remy by the door already with my medicine. He had that glint of amusement in his eye like he'd been watching me this whole time.   
"What? Is this some ritual now?" I asked, hoping so. He smirked; entered.  
"Depends," he said, and brought a hand to feel my forehead. Smiling, he took up my hand and put the pills in it. "You're going down. Thet's good."   
"It is?" I asked, and swallowed the pills with some water. After a moment, we stared at each other and I brought my eyes to look down at the blanket on my lower body. It was awkward, nonetheless. Then Remy ran his hand up and down my arm and smiled comfortingly.  
"I should go, beb," he murmured, and leaned close to me so that I could no longer see anything but those scarlet eyes of his. Then he kissed me through my hair and got up. His smile was that of what I loved. For a second I wished that time stood still and that he would stay for a moment longer but he was gone faster than I could catch my breath.   
But not the memory. That could stay for as long as it wants.   
  
Temperature: 98.9  
That's...so weird.   
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews~  
Vagabond: Don't worry about it. I have nothing better to do anyway ;). I ~bet~ Remy was referring to seeing John carry Rogue to the door, though Rogue doesn't remember that part. I guess Remy thought it was an unmentioned date and that Rogue does like John. Rogue's answer is playing on his words. He asked how John was [on the date] and after having her hopes raised yet again, it appears that she wants him to know that it didn't go any better than the fluff in the bedroom. Hope that helps!  
Christy S: I'm -so- glad you enjoyed the last chapter! This one is considerably sort, but I promise the next one is longer (it's already written). Hahaha, how in the world could I write such good angst? I never knew I had THAT in mind. But hey, whatever pleases, right?  
Sujakata: O.o I do hope so! The whole John and Remy fighting over Rogue looks like a great scene! It's like Lance against Peter all over again! Welps, we'll have too see.  
evilbon32: Yeah, I thought Remy needed to have it thrusted into his face since he's done it one too many times to Rogue! And I agree with you about the whole loathing Jean because she needs to be disliked. It's like a destiny for the girl. Well, anyway, I'm not even sure about what's next for Rogue except... well, keep reading and maybe it will be revealed!  
starlightz6: Yes. I agree with the bad timing for fluff. While I was writing it, I thought, hmph. Remy's had his share of sick times. So he wouldn't mind Rogue's little 'mishap' shall we say? Remy may sound jealous but he may not be jealous... [suspenseful, isn't it]   
Lady MR: I understand that you want Ro/Lo added to this story, but it's difficult to find places where I just stuff in the subjected romance. I'm trying my best to do what I can especially since it's written in Rogue's view. Please be patient with me as I do so.  
Pyromaniac: Heh. I imagine John being a drinker as well as Remy. But I think what influenced me was the fact that in Aussie slang, you see like "give a shout" which means buy everyone drinks and so one and so forth. I guess it plays on this story as well! 


	9. Cupid is Blind

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.  
Author's Notes: Again, it has come to my attention about the subject of the character Risty. I am not surprised and may have to keep writing these things to notify that the only reason why I write Ritzy is because I didn't know her name was Risty. But just as long as we know, the character in Evolution is Risty. And though I spell it differently, it is still the same person. To fans of Lancitty: Ack! I'm sorry to displease you all, but there is a moment that conflicts their relationship in this chapter! It's, um, opposing a bit...   
Chapter Nine: Cupid is Blind  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
January 22, 2003 5:37 p.m., in my shared room  
  
I didn't go to school today. Xavier wouldn't let me. He also made Logan bolt the windows shut and stand by my door. Great. You could already tell what kind of day I went through. I was bored so I made lists. Lists of what I should wear tomorrow, next week, and what I like about people. And dislike. Here are a couple I rounded up:  
  
WHY I SHOULD GET JEAN AWAY FROM REMY  
-because I love him. Numero uno proposition for any purpose whatsoever  
-because I hate her. And everything about her.   
-they don't even look good together!   
-Scott almost killed himself over Jean. Now you know that can't be good news.  
-Duncan transferred because of her. I mean, there was no proof, but you could definitely tell Jean was the reason.  
-She likes Pink. If Kurt hadn't interfered, she would've made the tuxes pink too!  
  
WHY I SHOULDN'T  
-  
-  
-you're kidding me, right?  
  
WHY I LOVE REMY (AND CONTINUE TO THROW MY HEART TO THE DOGS)  
-because I do. Anything else you want to know?  
-he's cute. okay, hot. okay, handsome. you get my gist.  
-he made me love him. I never loved anyone. Cody was different. I -liked- him.  
-he kissed me! okay, pecked me. but how many guys actually dared to do that after Cody! hmph, none.  
-he's not mean. He can be cruel, but he's not mean.   
-he's romantic. and perfect  
  
WHY I SHOULD FOREVER LOATHE HIS BEING  
-he proposed to Jean  
  
January 23, 2003 2:32 p.m. in my shared room  
  
Day #2 in solitude. It's okay, I'm used to it though I'm supposed to be locked in my room like a wild animal. Someday, seriously, I'll get out. Even if I die in the process. Ooh, Logan has left his post. Run Rogue! Run!  
  
Later, 4:33 p.m.  
  
I ran all right. Ran right into Mr. McCoy. He was eating caramel and trying hard not to get it on his hairy fingers since it's disgusting trying to lick fingers and end up with hair in your mouth (ew).   
So it was really, really not well from that moment on. His mouth was tightly shut with stickiness so it was terribly hard to scold me. But I felt bad and went back into my room. No use in trying, right?  
  
January 24, 2003 3:34 p.m. in my shared room  
  
I went to school today. Nobody missed me. Nobody cared. So SCREW THEM ALL!  
Yes, that seems to be what I do all day.   
  
Later 3:50 p.m.  
  
There is something that just doesn't seem right anymore. I guess, I'm the one wrong this whole time. I've disappointed myself to say the least.   
Jean, who hates to procrastinate, was practicing her wedding speech. I heard every word. And every word was all it took to turn my whole conscience around.   
I also remember it all.   
  
JEAN: I'm not the one to say those words that mean so much. We all know what they are, I love You, but does anyone know what they really mean? It's so simple of a phrase, but it explains every detail, every segment of, well, life. I guess, nobody really knows what they mean until they -feel- what they mean. I can't express what I feel for Remy LeBeau. Not even what I would say can convey everything he means to me. Yes, they may only be words, but Remy, when you asked me to yours forever and beyond, I knew that it was true. Something told me it was true. And I hope to the end that it is true. So, Remy, cheers, to us, to our marriage, to our life. And yes, this whole thing, has finally brought me to say I Love You. And it is meant, after all.  
  
See what I mean?! LIES!! ALL LIES!! I just know I won't be able to sleep tonight.  
  
11:45 p.m.   
  
HOW did I know this would just happen? HOW??  
  
January 25, 2003 12:22 a.m., in my shared room  
  
I composed something of my own since I can't go to sleep. It's to compromise what Jean thinks:  
  
I failed to realize  
how you think he loves you  
is it something that ridicules our lives  
or why would you think he's true?  
  
Has he told you about a few nights before  
When he built up the audacity to kiss me  
Don't tell me that it's something you'd ignore  
Because if you don't, then you're too blind to see.  
  
Something's up, someone will get screwed  
I think it'll end in divorce just like everyone else  
Or all this will start some kind of family feud  
Because you know you're lying to yourself.  
  
So take my advice or hire a bunch of lawyers   
Think about your mistake and so will he  
Before you walk down the aisle and out of the foyer  
And if you go through with it, you can't put the blame on me.  
  
7:45 a.m.  
  
It seems I've slept after all. And well. Wow, I should do those more often.   
  
6:30 p.m.  
  
Ohm. I just came home from music selecting with Jean. She dragged me all the way to Floof's Tunes, this store in downtown Bayville that sells and plays music. Floof turns out to be this gay guy who owns the store, but Jean wasn't looking for him. She was actually looking for Kitty's friend, Paul, who it seems, is... well, let's just say "working" for Floof as a professional disc jockey. Shocking, to say the least.   
Paul was actually very helpful. Jean told me he could sing and that he was going to be playing the songs for the night for half the price Floof usually charges. I was suspicious; thought she had to sleep with Paul to get such, but she reassured me that nothing happened and that he simply was doing her a favor. Rolling my eyes, I wondered who wasn't.   
So anyway, Paul did a sample song for us and it turns out he was actually pretty good for a guy like himself. And Kitty cut off connection with him because... of Lance? Somebody's taking a lot of precautions for a lasting relationship...   
Jean had a choice of her music. She thought of love songs and Paul suggested Frank Sinatra. She wanted Perry Como. I told them about Slipknot. They ignored me afterwards. While they were looking through songs, I wandered behind a few rows and found a few CDs I thought of buying. Then all of a sudden, some drugged up guy comes behind me and starts to yell about the drugs he just took, before I got tired of his dirty mouth and punched him. He fell down, knocking over some stereos along the way.   
Then Paul and Jean come over and I find out that the druggie was really Floof and Paul was "so ashamed". To ensure we wouldn't say anything, he marked down the price 25% more and sent us on our way. Jean was giddy and said she was lucky that I came with her. Also said when she needed anything, I was always there to help.  
Good God, somebody shoot me.   
  
January 26, 2003 5:45 p.m., in my shared room  
  
Kitty moved back in. She was putting everything back on her bed, and I noticed she was wearing the necklace again. I smiled and she had to look twice to see it.  
"What?" she asked, but smirked herself. I turned on my side, getting a nice view of the glinting gold.   
"Did you find out who it's from?" I asked quietly. Kitty brought her fingers and ran through the engraving. She smiled to herself, hanging a dress she had stolen from Jean's closet.   
"Lance says it's from John." She chuckled, taking it off. "I don't believe him." She sat on the bed, her eyes still on the necklace. I watched as she laid it on her bed, knowing that Lance had to crack soon about her secret admirer.  
"You ever had, like, a secret admirer, Rogue?" she asked, her voice suddenly fluffy. I looked away, gloating a bit.  
"Nope. I think it's better keeping the secret."   
"But don't you ever wish you, like, received something from someone you, like, didn't even know?" Peter would like that she likes the necklace. I smiled sadly.   
"Nope." It was a lie. I was jealous that Peter gave her extravagant gifts; that Jean had Remy. And I had no one. Kitty huffed and smiled, put the necklace back on, and patted the pillow.   
"It's good to be back," she said. "Jean was driving me, like, crazy with all the mess about her wedding. But she also mentioned you visited Paul?" She seemed ebullient again, almost like she missed him. And I couldn't blame her.  
"He's doing well," I said, and her smile widened. Then it dimmed.   
"I wish I could go visit him. But you know Lance," she said, getting up from her position. "He's so, like, protective of me."  
"You should be proud," I told her. She shrugged, unknowing.   
"I mean, I love him and all, but there are, like, so many restrictions." She laced the engraving longingly. "This is what reminds me there's, like, something more out there for me."   
I laughed and tossed a pillow at her. "You sound as helpless as me!" I declared. She stared, surprised. Then joined in my laughter. As suddenly as she started, she got up and moved to the closet again.   
"I've got a date," she explained, taking a pink dress from the rack. I nodded, and she dismissed herself.  
Well, now that I know, I better go spy right?   
Hey, can I help being evil? (no)  
  
January 27, 2003 4:15 a.m., in my shared room  
  
That was one hellva night. And I mean it.   
Lance didn't know I was there. But Kitty did. I rode home with her.   
There was a fight. There were things thrown. There was bickering, crying. And I was there to witness it all.  
She forgot to take off the necklace. Big mistake.   
Lance came to pick her up. He brought pink carnations. Kitty said she hated carnations. Lance should've noticed. There was something up. He brought his jeep, wore a white collared shirt and black slacks.   
This must've been some date. Lance never dressed up for anything. Which made it all the more interesting.  
I followed in Scott's car. He's still recovering. Still getting fed by Jean.  
So, the ride there was quiet. I could see through the windshield that she had her head resting on his shoulder. Lance made a right turn - Holly's Drive. Late night Flicks. Perfect.  
I parked away from the jeep so that Lance wouldn't notice or see. And then snuck and hid behind the trunk. They got out, and Lance locked the doors. As they made their way to the theater, I followed. Heard Lance ask two for the Late Night Flicks. I ordered my ticket, bought some popcorn, and took a seat behind the couple.  
The first few minutes were all him kissing her. Then, he opened his eyes and saw... the necklace. He started hissing curses as the room got dark. I heard it all though. There was hardly anyone there for the Late Night Flicks which is why it was always popular among us mutants. I used to go with Ritzy, but..well, you know what happened.  
"What's that?" he said, his voice harsh. Kitty, who never noticed it, finally did. Her mouth dropped open and I could tell she was brewing up a million excuses in that mind of hers. But Lance wouldn't have any of it. He spat a dozen cuss words from that foul mouth of his before trying to take it from her neck. Kitty, knowing he meant harm, clutched it in a fist. That was when Lance began his serenade of streaking curses.  
"It's from John, isn't? Why are wearing it?" he asked. Kitty's frown was that of many that stand out of my mind.  
"I like it." Bad, bad, choice of words, Kitty.  
"It's not from me," Lance rasped. Kitty said she could careless. She told him John was thoughtful to get her such an expensive gift and that it would only be awarding if she wore it. Lance, I could tell, was so angry, he could've killed John at the spot if he had been there.   
"It's not from me!!" he yelled, standing up. Some people started throwing things at him to sit down, but he didn't care. He fumed angry rage and I knew it was killing him inside. I defiantly ate popcorn through all of this.  
"I don't care, Lance. It's not like I love him..."  
"That's what you think! But one day you'll come to realize how much John is such a really nice guy and forget about a spud like me who can't afford to buy those stupid gifts! They tell me to stop worrying, to stop caring, but I can't stop because you won't let me stop!!!"   
"Lance. Don't you dare raise your voice at me..."  
He dared, but what he did next was so unexpected.  
He -hit- Kitty.   
Across the face. Just like that. It was so simple to do but so hard to get away with. I could see on his face that he didn't mean it. But he was caught up in the moment. Kitty was shocked too, but I was willing to act for her.   
I got up and slammed my bought bucket of popcorn on his head. Popcorn spilled to the seats, to the floor.   
"That was a complete waste of popcorn," I announced, and grabbed Kitty's arm. I ran with her out of the theater and noticed it had started to snow again. And this late in January.  
When I looked at Kitty again, I could see her face of disbelief splashed with disgraceful tears.  
"He-he ~hit~ me," she sobbed, and I took hold of her shoulders.  
"C'mon, Kitty. Don't break down on me now," I said, and she put her head down. I could tell she was delirious and let her lean on me as we walked back to Scott's car. It was good I had put up the cloth hood or we would've been snowed in.   
The way back could've killed us both.   
Kitty ended up breaking down. She kept crying, shivering, uttering words only Lance would say. I tried to make her stop; she was such a wreck. I gripped the wheel inconsiderately and wondered how I could ever sleep tonight.   
We got back and she's been up crying ever since.   
Like I said, one hellva night. And lucky for her, I was there.   
I wonder how Lance feels like now.  
  
January 28, 2003 8:55 a.m., English  
  
Kitty didn't go to school today. When she got down for breakfast, Logan dropped his newspaper and sent her back to our room.  
Poor, poor, Kitty.  
  
Later, 3:45 p.m.  
  
There'll be another practice. I'll see if I can get Kitty out of it. See if Jean has any remorse for the poor girl.  
  
Later, 6:23 p.m.  
  
Jean didn't. She was mad when she found out Kitty stole her favorite dress and couldn't care less if Lance had caused her havoc just the night before.  
Remy did, however. He let her sit out of it after Jean dragged her there and got screamed at. Well, he just said calmly, "Jeanie. She's tired. Give her some slack, kay?"   
And Jean did.   
Peter and John came. Peter sat down next to Kitty and Jean quickly turned to Remy, "Look! See what you've started!! This is all your fault!!"   
Remy shrugged off her remark and we started without them. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched them. No one could tell he loved her. Not even Kitty. He didn't have his arm around her or anything, but he was saying things only audible to her alone. She slowly began to compose herself and finally told Jean she was ready to participate. I bet Jean was so happy she could have dropped to her and kissed the ground Peter walked on if she actually thought about it. But then and there, she was just happy.  
After practice, I asked Peter what he told "Koshka". He just smiled and said that there are things that need to be heard. Then he left. I told this to John and he said Peter spoke one of his "remedies".   
"Remedies?" I asked. John just smiled and told me to come over soon.   
And when I asked Kitty what Peter told her she said quietly, "I don't remember." Then she pranced off.   
What is all THIS ABOUT?!!!  
  
January 29, 2003 9:41 a.m., French  
  
Kitty went back to school today. She wore the necklace; smiles. Peter is a -miracle worker-.  
  
January 30, 2003 8:00 a.m., English  
  
I _cannot_believe_this.  
I know I've been a pain this few days, but did Ms. Fielton have to do something like that?!  
I'm reciting my lines, stumble on one word, and she marks a WHOLE point off! And some people skipped an entire line and she gave them the whole enchilada!!!   
I'm spazing over one point. Bite me.  
So it was more of a flat- out slap in my face.  
  
My Recitation of Juliet's Lines (Romeo and Juliet, Act Three Scene Two)  
  
...too lazy to actually write them...  
  
January 31, 2003 4:57 p.m. in the X- JET  
  
I walked into my shared room after school and found Kitty ripping pink, white, and red letters all seeming from Lance. She looked weirdly annoyed, and when she looked up to see me standing there, she had this face of violent insolence.  
Well, I know I got the heck out of there.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews:  
starlightz6: Yes. I bet Rogue will resort to believing in all those corny, lovy-duby statements. Let's just hope it doesn't turn her into a mental case like it did with..ahem..Jean..  
ishandhalf: I know. But nobody's seen that yet since Evolution is supposed to be kid-friendly. I say, c'mon! Some romance and peeking don't kill any of us.  
Amber: Well, it will get confusing to explain, so I'll hope you can wait until Risty (spelled Ritzy in my writing) is found out as really Mystique. There will be a part where she will be revealed... I haven't forgotten about that "profound but forgotten" ring yet! That will appear again. I can't promise anything right now since it's only the beginning of February and there are still two complete months into this story, so I'll just say I'll hope that they'll fight o'er Rogue!  
Vagabond: I'm so glad! Yea, I thought I'd have complaints that the last chapter was short, but I'm actually relaxed now that I've read the reviews. It's nice to know I've made somebody laugh through this story...  
Evolutionary Spider: Rest assure, Spider. He was wearing gloves. I guess I (or Rogue, should I say) forgot to write that down. And I rethunk the whole getting rid of Scott thing and have dismissed it. Look for him in the next chapter!  
Goldylokz: I'm glad you love this story and have taken the time to update! It's great to know, yes yes. I hope you enjoy the growing romance and triangles revovling around this story, especially Rogue and Remy ~_^  
Evilbon32: Oh, I'm sorry to keep you waiting all day for this update! Yes, I guess I should schedule them now, huh? I will for now on unless there is a vacation - I'll update mainly on Thursday, Firday, Saturday, or Sunday. Because it's the weekend and I have no life so I'll sit by my computer and udpate. (I laugh at myself) Be forewarned though - don't think Remy's such a sweetie or lover yet....  
Lady MR: I...don't...think so. Like I've said before, we should all be forewarned about Remy's true feelings. There is a possibility he may be in love with Jean or in love with someone fro his past or Rogue or no one at all! Which gives me a great idea for the next book (yes, there will be one!)  
Carla: My pleasure! I'm thankful for everyone's support on this story. It's like somone hauling me out of a ditch. Reviews do help!  
Pyromaniac: Yes, aren't they all a bitch? Well, I know there will be more John in the next chapters and since I've got a hold of some vocabulary of Aussie Slang, he'll make A LOT of appearances!  
Samman: I'm much pleased that you reviewed this story! It's so great to see new faces reading my work (though I love you all for keep tabs on this story!) And I too wish this story would be Remy/Rogue *sweats* did I just give away something I wasn't supposed to give away?!  
  
Side note: Colussus is Latin for 'Giant'. Not that you needed to know that... 


	10. Jean's Obesity Issues

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I mention in this story and its chapters.   
Author's Notes: Sorry about the delayed update! And I'm also sorry to also mention this... finals are coming up next week and me being the procrastinator I am have yet to study for any of them ~.~; So, just a note that the next chapter will be a bit delayed too. Sorry and Enjoy!   
Chapter Ten: Jean's Obesity Issues  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
February 1, 2003 2:22 a.m., in my bed  
  
Someone screamed, awakening me. I turned on my light, my eyes squinting from the sudden brightness. Rolling out of bed, I looked around, and upon seeing Kitty still sleeping, got up.   
The screamer turned out to be Jean. I found her in the bathroom, actually crying.   
"What the -hell-?" I asked, lacing my fingers through my hair. She looked at me, her eyes red.   
"Oh, Rogue! It's terrible!" she cried and tried to throw her hands around me, but I pushed her away.   
"Just tell me," I said, half-asleep. She pouted and looked in the mirror.  
"I actually gained two pounds!!" then she dissolved into a puddle of cries. I really wanted to kick her right then and there, but fought the urge and asked, "How do you know?!"  
"Well," she sniffed, wiping away tears, "I weighed myself because, you know, it's always good to weigh yourself after sleeping," I gurgled, annoyed. "and so it turns out I weigh 102 lbs.! You know what that means?"  
"You actually gained enough to ride on a roller coaster?" I tried to even out my sarcasm. She moaned, grabbing my shirt.   
"No! I'm FAT!!" Okay, that was impossible.   
"Are you looking at the right mirror?" I asked, glancing at the reflection in front of us. She still had her cheek bones, her high forehead, green eyes. Not to mention no fat at all.   
"No duh, Rogue," she grumbled, and turned soberly to the mirror. Then she started pinching her stomach under her nightshirt.   
"See! I'm not supposed to have a stomach, and then all of a sudden, I do!!" I slapped her hands away, miffed.  
"EVERYONE has a stomach! What are spazing about?!"   
"Gaining two pounds, maybe?" she looked at me, and I could see she was annoyed with me. Remembering I had promised myself to expand my patience span for a resolution, I grinded my teeth and said, "Okay Jean. Tell me what's so wrong about gaining two pounds?"  
"Well, I won't be able to fit in my dress, and I won't..." she ran out of excuses and then resorted to screaming once more.   
"This is pointless," I muttered, and left her to drown in her despair. Maybe she'll die of such.   
But it is proven you cannot die of a broken heart, much less gaining two pounds.  
  
Later, 7:45 a.m.  
  
Jean refuses to eat any breakfast. Xavier is worried.  
  
7:49 a.m.  
  
Found out she won't feed Scott either in fear she'll eat herself. Scott's sad.  
  
9:55 a.m.  
  
Logan talked to Jean and she gave him the whole sob story she gave me. He walked out of her room just as I heard a shrill wail followed by sobs. This is getting a bit annoying.  
I mean, TWO pounds!! Is there in any given moment, some sober excuse to get worked up about TWO pounds?! Although, somehow I can understand, considering she's weighed like 100 pounds her whole teen life, so that could put her in the pits.  
But THIS is bottom-low. I already can see where this will be going.  
  
11:36 a.m.   
  
Ororo tried to pry Jean from her room. She said that it's useless and that Jean intends to starve herself into this mesh of bones and bare flesh so she can fit into one mangy dress. I predict that she'll become anorexic and die before she even reaches the altar. Coming from me, is that a good thing?  
  
12:34 p.m.   
  
Mr. McCoy cooked lunch outside. Said something about letting the smell float to her window to try and lure her out. This could be drastic.  
  
12:36 p.m.   
  
Nothing. She's going to die in that room of hers. Kitty will sacrifice her life and try to bring her up a hamburger.  
  
12:44 p.m.  
  
We await; anxious. If she won't reappear in five minutes, I'm coming up.  
  
1:15 p.m.  
  
Kitty came down, her face angered. She left the hamburger in Jean's reach and Jean, who's nit-picky, left it outside her door since she didn't want to stain the carpet upon throwing it at Kitty.   
Now, Kitty's aggravated.  
  
2:45 p.m.  
  
Everyone is thinking up ways of making Jean eat. She's hasn't come out and it's making the adults nervous, the guys a bit aroused, and the girls miffed. So we're thinking of plowing down the door and forcing her to eat a slab of meat.  
This could get crucial.  
  
3:57 p.m.  
  
Bobby tried to get her out, that "brave" soul, as Mr. McCoy joked (he isn't half bad either). He's going to ice the door and kick it down. I'm wanting to see this.  
  
4:12 p.m.  
  
There is certain discussion of which who should get her out? Well, first it was Xavier but she could easily scream his conscience out the door, then it was Logan but he was defiantly scared of her, and then Ororo but she came up with the simple excuse that she had already tried.  
So now we're resorting to Roberto. He's not a true charmer, but right now, he'll have to do.  
Oh, and have I mentioned Remy is no where to be found?!  
  
6:37 p.m.  
  
Jean screams -a lot-. It seems she could scream and cry and wail all day to everyone's irritation. Well, Bobby iced the door, but when he tried to kick it down, he bounced back, landing himself into the room behind him. From then on, he's been in and out of consciousness, which is pretty funny because Amara and Jubilation can put him next to Scott and put them in iratic positions, take pictures, and hold them for the due of blackmail.   
Ororo's mad. She's tired and hungry and is having headaches because she's irritated. Logan blames it on Remy, who still hasn't shown up.   
Where can he be when his fiancée is in this time of "distress"?   
  
7:54 p.m.  
  
We gave up. That and because Bobby's iced the door and has therefore forever locked Jean into her room. Amara won't burn the door and Jubilation won't try to explode it.  
  
9:34 p.m.  
  
Xavier called a meeting in the rec room. He said that Jean was undergoing disturbances with intermediate levels of stress and therefore will not be able to join in any activities from then on.   
Then Jamie asked the question if she'd come to dinner for his birthday (it's in two days), and Prof. gave us an awkward face and told us to get to bed.  
Well, I'm in bed, but the problem is Jean's wailing can be heard a mile away. Seriously, this cannot get any worse.  
  
February 2, 2003 7:35 a.m.  
  
It got worse. Jean came out, it turns out. But not for food.  
She's -exercising-.  
I'm not sure how she got out, but I think Remy did finally show up and blew up the door. There are burnt marks all over the frame, I've noticed.  
Well, how far will Jean go? Running, running, where will she drop down and die... I don't know.   
  
7:34 p.m.  
  
I asked Remy what he thought he was letting his fiancée do, killing herself and all, and do you know what he answered?  
"What? I t'ink it's hot."   
Good GOD, I'm about to kill myself of all this ignorance.  
  
8:43 p.m.   
  
Jean went to bed tired and hungry. She's not even eating healthy food. Maybe I'll go and ask where she is about now.  
  
8:52 p.m.  
  
I asked, and she almost tried to scream at me, but instead, she fell on her bed and I think passed out.   
Well, I'm not the one to gloat or take any blame, so I told Xavier about her condition. He furrowed his brow and told me to go to bed and take well precautions.  
  
February 3, 2003 6:29 p.m. ~Jamie's Birthday  
  
Jean has isolated herself- away from food and people, but mainly food- so nobody could help but forget about Jamie's birthday and sympathize for the girl.  
Jamie was angry, to say the least.   
"Whay are you people like this?! Don't I at least get a cake?!!" Poor guy. Xavier shut himself up in the study, Logan went somewhere with Ororo (I'm not going to ask), Remy is back at Magneto's, and everyone else just left. Well, anyway, I grabbed his gift and gave it to him.   
It was a box that said "Things" on it. He was happier than I had expected and actually skipped away, thanking me.   
Weird. I bought it at the dime shop down the street too.  
  
7:12 p.m.  
  
I thought of torturing Jean by bringing up some steak leftovers from a couple nights ago. But when I opened the door, I found her -eating-!!  
We looked at each other, and finally, she got up, took the steak and slammed the door.  
  
Well, there goes all those anorexic ideas out of the window.  
  
February 4, 2003 2:22 a.m.  
  
Things have got worse. It's not like I didn't know things would turn this way, but did they have to?!  
I woke up at midnight, with the feeling that something wasn't right. Walking down the hallway, I looked inside the bathroom and found Jean -throwing up in the toilet-!!   
And the fact that she doesn't drink did rouse some suspicion that she is bulimic.  
"Jean!" I screamed her name, holding my nose from the sour stench of vomit. She looked up, her eyes glassy with denseness.  
"Oh," she moaned, trying to get up. I grabbed her arm and she got to her feet. "Thanks," she said, and I gave her a hard look. "What?"   
"What?! Well, maybe the fact that you have resorted to throwing up now?"  
"So?" she had to ask. I rolled my eyes.  
"You have moved on from anorexic to bulimia! Does that not bother you?!" She stared at me then turned, flushing the toilet. "C'mon, Jean. You're smarter than this." It was terrible to tell her, especially coming from me, but she needed to hear it. She stood up straight, looked in the mirror, rinsed her mouth, and when she saw me still looking at her, so tossed her hair out of her face and pranced out of the bathroom.  
This is SO not good.  
  
4:32 p.m., in the living room  
  
Everyone is happy now that Jean is eating again. They don't know about her bulimic secret. This could get a bit dramatic - more than it already is.   
  
February 5, 2003 7:14 p.m., in my shared room  
  
IT IS OVER.  
Or at least Remy said it was.   
Jean had refused his fabulous soufflé. THAT was a mistake, because Remy's specialty is soufflé and when someone refuses it, he either gets mad or erratically depressed.  
In this case, he got mad.  
It was like witnessing Xavier's little pandemonium all over again, except Remy is neither as old or as bald.  
We were seated at dinner. Remy had done his little gentleman act by pulling out Jean's chair, etc, etc. That was that, until he announced that he had cooked the dinner and everyone was glad because they knew Remy was a good cook either way. Everyone, that is, except Jean, who darkened her face and clamped her hands to her lap.   
"Would you like some, Jeanie?" Remy asked her, putting a spoonful of soufflé inches from her mouth. That was torture. The smell, the look, the taste - how could you be anorexic at a time like this?   
But of course, Jean had turned to bulimia and when she saw it, she right away got up from her chair and ran to the downstairs' bathroom. That could only mean she was bulimic to even the look of food - which made Remy a little appalled, and everyone else just plain surprised.   
Then, he asked what that was about. I simply played with my fork, turning the peas and chicken over and over again, and simply said, "She's bulimic."  
Then came disbelief. The revelation was little too much for Xavier who fell off his wheelchair. Everyone else excused themselves and left Remy's soufflé sitting there. I just ate; no point in letting good food go to waste, right?  
But Remy was dissatisfied and rapped on the bathroom door: "Jean! You come out of dere! You made everyone run away from meh specialty! And don tell me non, because I did not slave in thet kitchen for non one t' eat what I cooked! COME OUT!!"Then came a voice: "No."  
And that was all Remy needed to explode. He came back, took up his plate, said he'd eat in his room. But I stopped him and before he could spit, "WHAT?!" at me, I said, "See, I told you things would become like this. Maybe you should talk to her --"  
"Thet's impossible, Rogue," he rasped, nodding to the door.   
"Something impossible to Remy? That's something new," I inquired, and he was about to say something else, when we heard an acute wheezing and whirled around. It turned out to be Scott, still on his ivy, dragging himself along. He staggered a bit with some difficulty and I could tell it had been a long time since he had stood up. His face was pale, his arms droopy with no muscle, his hair oily and messed. I guess Remy was a bit appalled himself - Scott was a sure certain sort of sight.   
"Wheez--" he started to say which sounded more like 'Jean' and as we stared on, he tripped over his ivy and fell on his face. Taking my eyes from him, I looking at Remy, who gave me a defeated glance. Then he sighed.  
"Fine. I'll talk to her."   
And that was that. So I guess he persuaded Jean to eat again, since she's back to feeding Scott, and has also vowed never to throw up for Remy convinced her it would hurt him deeply. That and because she's back down to 100 pounds.   
At last, it is over. I hope.   
_________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews:   
Klucky: Um, that's hard to answer. I got a list from my geography teacher because we were learning about Australia. But I've also heard you can get some words through a site though I'm not exactly sure about such...  
Pyromaniac: Oh please don't do that! I, um, didn't want it to go that far! Burning works of literature are such wastes (on both fire and paper). And about what you thought about Kitty - yes, she is annoying. But her being someone who learns to live with Rogue deserves to be written as well. And Pyro being GAY??? I mean, did people have to go that far??!! Which draws disturbing images in my mind...  
Evolutionary Spider: *sweatdrop* Okay, this is where I admit I was a bit lazy and needlessly embarrass myself by apologizing... I fixed it right away, not to mention. Corey was nobody. I meant Cody, yes yes. It was a name I drew blank and thought, yes Corey's his name and put it down, yes. That is my "brilliant" explanation (it would be better if I could actually think of big words, yes yes.) Okay, I'll run away now...  
Ishandahalf: Well, I'm like that. I was reading my Latin book and saw Colossus and thought, that's Peter! I can be such a ditz...  
Starlightz6: Yes! That part about Jean did its job! It was supposed to make people sad and I was a bit annoyed that it didn't until I saw your review and did a happy dance! (okay, not really. I VALUE my insanity, thank you very much)   
Me: Possessive, compulsive, obsessive boyfriend - not the best thing in the world. Because if you ask me, girls should be more complicated than the guy. But that's what I think.  
Neurotic Temptress: (see the little note to Evolutionary Spider for Corey/Cody) I don't think Scott would use Rogue again. It would be just too hard, especially since he's got Jean feeding him. Score one for him. But I'll have to see if it'll work - if not, you know why.  
Sujakata: Wow. You really want blood o.O Well, again, I'll see if it works... And yes, Peter is cute and sweet and Lance is obsessive and compulsive, and I want THEM to fight! (which they have, but it's not really that official yet)   
Carla: I didn't take your review as criticizing the chapter. I understand, because Remy did delay coming to see Rogue, Logan is being a meanie, everybody doesn't care 'bout Rogue. But I'm so glad you're liking the blossoming relationship between Kitty and Peter and I am a bit sad that they didn't stick in the original series. And I'm afraid this chapter was a bit short too, but it's finals week and it's a busy month...(excuses, excuses)  
Christy S: I totally agree with you on such a point. Remy is a sickness and Rogue refuses to get well from him. I'm also sorry to see Kitty and Lance's relationship diminish, but there will be some sort of reconciliation later (Peter won't get her that quick!) Isn't it weird though? Remy and Jean weren't meant to be together, but in this story, people are supposed to lean on that direction. I hate it, but doesn't it make the plot a bit spicier? (excuse my lack of big words - finals are killing my brain)  
Gaea: The possibilities are endless in this fic - the romance is mixed, the plot is wicked (especially to those who love Romy), the scenes are surprising. To keep readers attached..! But I agree -- John does seem like someone you do fall in love with! See, now you know why I totally disapprove the gay vibe people get from him..  
Fuzzy Elf: Thank you for your consecutive reviews! I was wondering about you and thought did you abandon the web or just failed to notice the posts of this story? I'm so glad that you finally have a chance to read it! And thank you for adding this story to your favorite's list! So, by your reviews, I can tell it's getting a bit exciting... hehe! I'm so happy :D Also, I have read those Wayside Books, and I adore them! Books I would definitely recommend! Okay, now I'll officially run away .. 


	11. Problems with Remy

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG to PG-13 whether there is language or not  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.   
Author's Notes: There's a lot of things I'm not sure about in this story. There are parts where Remy goes into counseling (and rehab) and since I've never been in a place like that, I can only write what I think it's about. And some details of smoking, drinking, gambling. Explaining the title. And never in my life experiencing any of such, I still can only write what I think it's about.  
Chapter Eleven: The Problem(s) with Remy  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
February 6, 2003 5:22 p.m., in my shared room before dinner  
  
Certain mail came today. Logan got it, as a daily ritual. Take, smell, give. He always knows what each one is about, like last week, he smelled a plain letter and said, quite frankly, "Jean, it's from Visa. Your payments are due."  
Yes, Logan, is very good at such.  
Today, he handed Jean a letter, and said, "It's from your parents." Then he gave Remy, who was drinking a glass of water (why not wine I ask), a sharp glance and disappeared into the kitchen.  
Propping her feet on the coffee table (Xavier hates that), Jean split the seal and hurriedly took out the paper inside. "Honey --" she looked over, motioning Remy to sit next to her, "come here."  
He complied like an obedient dog and took a seat next to her, his arm coming over her shoulders affectionately. She wriggled from his position shyly and gave him a hard look. I was watching all this while "reading" Stephen King's 'Carrie' (for the fifteenth time that week) and smiled to myself about how hostile she was with Remy's touch. Pushing the book up against my wrists, I listened for more of the interesting conversation.  
"My parents..." Right away Remy's eyes hardened. It was enough to crack up. "...they want to meet you." Almost instantly, Remy jumped up, his arms flying everywhere.   
"What-- why? I thought you were gonna keep 'em out o' dis!"   
Jean stood up with him, her hands finding his shoulders. "I know. But I guess my sister slipped..."  
"Oh, now it's your sister!" Jean's eyes filled with tears. Remy looked at her hurt and his face softened. That killed me.   
"Fine." There was a tone of reluctance in his voice and I smiled again at such. Jean's face prepped once more, shining.  
"Thank you honey." She pecked him meekly on the cheek and lifted his glass to her lips. Remy stared at her, horrified.  
"Uh, I wouldn do thet..." Her face suddenly became distorted, clicking to the taste. She spit the liquid out all over the coffee table without delay.  
"What IS that?!" she screamed, giving Remy a face of disbelief.  
"Distilled Vodka," Remy said, with an innocent smile. Jean shook her head, incredulously. Taking the drink, she splashed it into his face, and walked past him, leaving the room.   
Dripping of impudence and smelling of alcohol, Remy stood like a fool as I got up and said over his shoulder, "A complete waste of Vodka." Then left.   
This could get pretty interesting.  
  
February 7, 2003 2:23 p.m., waiting for someone to pick me up   
  
Oh, and it did. I just saw Remy walking out of the double doors, quickly. He has an appointment -- with the rehab counselor! Can it be? Is Jean...making Remy stop drinking??? Is that even possible???  
Gossip is abound; the world would like to know.  
  
February 8, 2003 6:23 p.m.  
  
Remy's second session with the rehab counselor. This time he went with Jean because he was being a pain, asking when would the session be over again and again (it takes two hours a day).   
Will his rehab be dramatic like Backstreet Boy AJ, or on and off like Logan? Jean wants to keep it secret.  
Not doing too well, now is she?  
  
February 9, 2003 3:54 p.m.   
  
Kitty says it's impossible to get Remy to stop. Because Jean didn't even -know- Remy was such a heavy drinker. Two bottles of wine (at the most, mind you all) a day, with all the other essentials (like Bloody Marys, Manhattans, sidecars, etc) and she learns such NOW? It almost kinda makes you wonder why they're even getting married.  
  
4:42 p.m.  
  
Found an leaf of paper lying on Jean's dresser. It was Remy's progress:  
  
Name: Remy LeBeau  
Age: will not tell me; twenty maybe  
School: Bayville High  
Relatives: None known, except for to-be-wife, Ms. Jean Grey  
Problems/Addictions: Alcohol  
Days in Rehab up-to-date: two  
Progress: Very...slow  
Comments: He is very impatient, angry, annoyed, perplexed, annoying.   
  
Signed: Professor Goralbe  
  
February 10, 2003, in the limo home  
  
Funny day. Jean said she couldn't make Remy's rehab session and since the doctor/counselor/professor didn't want Remy to attend any sessions without a confidant, she made me go with him.  
The trip there was quiet. He looked out the window the whole way; steady, unsure, diverting. I clenched my teeth to keep from smiling ridiculously, because it was mean and I didn't want Remy to think I was evil or making fun of him behind his back.   
The wait for the session was long too. The place was called "Clinic" (though I know there should be more to such a title) and there were like ten people already sitting in the waiting room. Remy took a seat next to a table with magazines strewn all over inanely as I sat in the chair next to him. The room was blank and white -- like an insanity ward or something. I smiled at the ceiling like a fool - it was all I could do so I wouldn't laugh out loud. Remy was fiddling with his trench coat buttons when we finally were called in -- at exactly three.   
Remy was uncomfortable. He squirmed in his chair in the office of the professor, a plain room, with a green plant growing weakly by a black phone which stayed in front of pictures portraying certain family members. Diplomas hung from the wall behind us - actually all around us. There were masters, degrees, minors, majors -- all in psychiatry. I couldn't believe how such a profession would require so much study. No wonder Remy was uncomfortable in this place - it was a place destined for discomfort.   
The professor was a small woman with beady black eyes and gold spectacles that sat at the edge of her nose. She spoke briskly to Remy while jotting down notes, and finally glanced at me sideways, impressively. Then she spoke.   
"YOU aren't Ms. Grey," she inquired thoughtfully, studying me a bit.   
"No, I'm certainly not," I said, smartly. She kept her eyes on me though, as if I was a statue and she would want to move me with her mind. It was all very awkward and I felt myself go red.   
"You don't mind...?" before I could speak, she grabbed my hand, twisted it slightly and let it prop to the table. Then she leaned closer, studying my eyes, nose, features. Jotting more notes, she patted my upper arms, and finally dropped her pencil.  
"You write with your right hand," she said, and I looked at her surprised. Nobody's noticed that before. "Your vision is 20/280, your face will soon be distorted from all the makeup you wear, you are well built. Your height is precisely five foot five."  
"Six," I corrected, and she gave me a swift look.   
"No, I believe you're five."   
"No, I grow every three years. I'm five foot six inches, thank you very much." She then put her spectacles down, as if miffed.  
"Miss," she said, her voice steady in patience. "I do believe you are five foot five. If not, then..."  
"I'm five foot six inches..."  
"I've never been wrong..."  
"Well, now you are." We looked at each other, discriminating. Then she pushed herself away from her desk, standing up hurriedly.   
"Okay, you deny my intellect, then you will see how very wrong you are and very right I am."  
Pushing me to the wall, she flattened me, pulled me straight, and took out a tape measurer. Struggling since she was much shorter than me, she told Remy to measure me and see how many inches there were. I didn't see why; this was supposed to be about him anyway. So he obeyed, like he did with most people, and said, "She's five foot six inches, Madam."  
"No she isn't!!!" Her voice was shrill; like she was surprised she was found wrong. Looking, she studied the tape measurer. I looked too: six inches.  
She was wrong. And she was angry. Suddenly, she was pulling out every tape measurer in all the moment possible: making Remy measure, measure, measure. They all read the same, five foot, six inches, no more no less.   
Finally, she grabbed her coat, pulled down all her diplomas and awards, and stomped out the door. It was quite a sight, so when Remy and I climbed back into the limo, he turned to me and said, "What will Jeanie say?"  
"She'll scream, then cry, then find another professor." He smiled at my thought and found my hand. Giving it a slight squeeze, he smirked beautifully and said, "Thanks Rogue. Thanks."  
Wow. I should really lay off rehab professors more often.  
  
February 11, 2003   
  
Jean wasn't very happy with the news that the professor had quit because of me. She said what could she ever accomplish with me trying to make Remy delusional of being a drunkard. Then I asked her why she wanted to change him in the first place. She sighed, pulling at her scarlet hair with great despair.  
"I think it's unhealthy," she said, despicable.   
"Doesn't he?" I wondered. She looked at me with depressing green eyes.  
"Don't you?" Dejecting question. Only Jean would ask such.   
"I wouldn't know- I'm not marrying him," I said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice. She found it quite amusing though.  
"Oh," she said, her face twisting into a scary smile. She never gives me that smile - maybe at Scott, but never me. Then she ran off, and I heard from Ororo that she'd seen Jean roaming the aisles of a Sav-on drug store.  
Oh. No.  
  
February 12, 2003  
  
Rehab. Nicotine Patches. Gum. A full membership to the Y. All in an effort to stop Remy from doing what he's been doing for quite some time.   
Habits die hard. Let's just hope Remy don't die with them.  
  
February 13, 2003  
  
Remy couldn't believe it when Jean showered him with such response. He's locked himself up in his room, and I can hear Jean knocking on his door, trying to lure him out. She keeps shouting she smells cigarette smoke and that he can't keep himself in there forever.   
If I know Remy any, he won't let her change him. He can't.  
He just can't.  
  
February 14, 2003 3:23 a.m. ~Valentine's Day  
  
He cracked. He opened his door, and let Jean invade him with all her efforts on putting it all on a stop. He's wearing the patch; I overheard them discussing how to wear it and everything. Then they stayed up for another hour, conversing on what he could do in the Y to keep him off his gambling addiction. He wasn't very happy; I heard him snap a couple times before the light turned off and Jean left.   
I still can't believe he cracked. He couldn't have.  
But he did.  
  
Later, 9:35 p.m.  
  
John came over with roses; fourteen for today. I let him into the living room and popped in the Adam Sandler collection Ritzy, ahem, gave to me. We ordered pizza, made popcorn, and shared a glass of wine.   
Ha! Could I have asked for more?  
Remy came downstairs once, wearing the patch. His face was disfigured in a genuine frown which he wore with discomfort as he spotted John sitting next to me. On the couch. Eating pizza. Drinking wine.  
John was the first to smile at his friend. "Well, if it isn't the charmin' Cajun bloke (man), and not enjoying any more fags (cigarettes) I see? Well, I'm so sorry for you!" he sipped the wine, an imperious look on his flattered face. Remy shot me a chagrined eye which I simply shrugged off. John, seeing such, filled the glass with wine, and I saw Remy's eyes sparkle with desire.  
"Care to have a sip, Yobbo*?" It was a surprising question, as John lifted the glass, its crimson color alluring. Remy's eyes widened, then squinted with disgust.  
"Putain, I rather kiss a snake," he grunted, and ducked out of the room. John just laughed, and sipped Remy's share. I put down the pizza I was holding, feeling suddenly sick. John looked over and patted my shoulder.   
"Something wrong, love?" he asked, comfortingly. I didn't feel comforted, though.   
"I was just wondering," I answered, wiping my fingers with napkins. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw John smile and turn off the T.V. Still wondering, he downed the rest of the wine and got up.   
"Well, my curfew is a couple o' minutes away," he informed me, and I followed him quietly to the door as I pulled my gloves back on my hands. He opened it, and I was suddenly struck with how cold it was -- and still snowing. "I hope we can do this again," he told me, standing by the doorframe. I smiled; he found my hand.  
"Soon?" he asked, kissing its glove. I blushed, flustered with his charm.  
"Of course." And he was gone, blowing in the midst of falling snow. I watched through the blackness with deteriorating faith, the illusion of love still on my mind. When I finally turned around again, there stood Jean, pulling on her coat with Remy by her side.   
"Out so late?" I asked slyly, and she smirked.   
"And you so messy?" I blushed, glancing at Remy. He didn't return the gesture, let alone meet my eyes. Picking up John's roses I had left in a vase, I hurried away, and now they stay by my beside.   
Kitty wonders - does John love me?  
Can I help but feel the same?  
  
February 15, 2003 2:34 a.m.  
  
I woke up to find John's roses' petals strewn all over my table top, the stems still in the vase, which I found in the trash can. Someone has some nerve - pulling them apart and leaving the mess for me to see.   
But I'd rather not find out who.   
  
* Yobbo: Australian slang for a person who acts thoughtlessly  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews:  
  
LinkinPark4ever: Why, thank you! Seriously, I can't help but fluster every time I see that someone has put my stories and/or me on their favorites' lists! I'm also happy that you like this fic - and I'll try to keep it on for as long as I can!  
Erica: Yes. Jean has successfully made us annoyed once again. Hey, if I could create some sort of death for her, I'd gladly post it. But you know, Jean just seems to NEVER DIE. Doesn't it seem that way? She's gone for, like, a week on the series and just when you think she'll never show again, she does. *sighs* It just never helps being hopeful…  
Pyromaniac: Jean is in all cases capable of being pitied (just as long as she's alive, don't we all need to be?) Glad you liked the last chapter - I for one don't want to center anything around Jean again. But alas, to make to fic interestingly annoying, I must keep her in. I'm being so conclusive today…  
IshandaHalf: Again, when it comes to the subject of Jean, I would like to kill her. Or have Rogue kill her. But you know, conspiracies are everywhere, [man] so like, I leave it up to someone else to write her death. And so far, I've seen many a story that can write a good [and preferably funny] death of either Jean and Scott. Now can anyone think I'm anything for Scott or Jean? God help you if you do…  
Starlightz6: Yes, well, Rogue's infatuation is still there - trust me on that. This chapter concludes your theory of the "couple" drifting. I as well would like to see Remy dump Jean, but well, you never know… and thank you for wishing me luck on my finals! It was actually pretty easy (except for English Honors. Essays were never really my thing), but now it's over [for now].   
Christy S: Obliterate! That's Yu-gi-oh's favorite word! [sorry, my mind is blown from studying] And can you see any of the X-Women fat?! God, great image on the world today..  
Samman: Thanks for wishing luck on my finals, too. Brilliant writer? Hmph. I don't think myself as an author of anything great, just as long as people like my writing, I'm happy. But thank you, flattery is always considerable (smiles stupidly). And present tense is VERY difficult to write. I tried several times to do so and it was a mess. But I've read great examples of such, like -Chocolat- but anyway, glad you like this story and I hope it fulfills your prospect with every twist and turn!  
RogueandKurt: Of course! Look for some Pitty (hmm...that could just work) Piotr/Kitty next chapter!  
Evolutionary Spider: And this chapter goes until Valentine's Day! That's good on my terms, but Rogue's running out of time! If you ask me, if she wants Remy, she better act faster than she's already trying...  
Sujakata: Are you serious?! Wow, Jean pregnant...not totally probable unless it's some kind of date rape. But I'm not the one to say..  
Goldylokz: Well, when I came across your review, I thought to myself, there is SO much truth to what you've wrote, that's for sure. Anorexia and Bullimia are abhorrent problems for most teenage girls these days. What I was trying to portray in the last chapter was how much concern it draws from so many people that love the person. Even Rogue, who desperately loathes Jean, has even the heart to care whether Jean eats or not, so there must be something in these disorders that makes her (and everyone) distraught. I'm no expert, but it does help when I do learn more about such things. And on that matter, I hope your sister is all right - eating disorders are scary. (and disgusting)  
Fuzzy Elf: I'd like to confirm I never saw such an episode (and would like to kill myself for not!). From other writings concerning Remy, I learned that he was a bit vain when it comes to cooking, so I decided to throw in a little of that into the chapter. And also, doesn't it just not draw a nice picture that John is [seen] gay? I mean, you'd also wonder, with who, how... never mind. 


	12. The Cat, her Rocker, & the Giant

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Author's Notes: Since many have asked (okay, I haven't counted, but I'm getting requests), this chapter is thoroughly devoted to Kitty, Peter, and Lance. And you know what that means - so let the good times roll!  
Chapter Twelve: The Cat, her Rocker, & the Giant  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
February 16, 2003 6:36 p.m.  
  
Remy is still on the patch. Jean's keeping him on it. He also is attending classes for swimming, pooling, weight training at the Y. AND is attending rehab classes. Jean cleaned out his stash of cigarettes, in his pockets, closet, drawers, etc. and she even found some bourbon under his bed. Remy was out in the Y all day, so she had all day to clean this, throw that.   
I don't think Remy will be too pleased with what Jean's done.  
  
Later  
I was right. Remy was shouting at the top of his lungs when he found out - and now he's gone into some kind of manic depression and won't let Jean in his room again.  
Serves her right.   
  
February 17, 2003 4:22 p.m. ~ hiding behind Kitty's bed, in my shared room  
  
Okay. Why does everything bad have to happen to me?? I mean, why won't God just turn around and do something bad to Jean for once instead of me?! I'm sitting in my room, bored out of my mind (it being Monday and nothing to do), and suddenly the phone rings. I pounce, hoping it was nobody really, and answered, "Hello?"   
"Hi." Quiet tone. I paused, registering the voice in my head. It couldn't be a guy, so it must of been.... "It's Ritzy."  
"Oh," I forced. My gut was churning inside of me; I was feeling delirious. Sitting down on Kitty's bed, I pouted.   
"How...are you?" she continued. My voice was mute; I could barely speak.   
"Fine."  
"Really?"  
"No." I couldn't see her, but I knew she was smiling.   
"Sounds just like you, Rogue." Silence.  
"What are calling me for?" I finally asked.   
"I was just...well I... I guess I wanted to see how you were doing."  
"Is that all?"  
"Well..."  
"Well...?" I was growing impatient. Another pause.  
"Um... I... well, wanted to tell you I was sorry for deserting you like that..."  
"Okay..." I said, grinding my jaw. "Is that all?"  
"No..."  
"Hurry up. I have to meet someone..." It was a lie, and she knew it.  
"Who?"   
"It doesn't concern you, Ritzy. Speak or call me later."  
"All right." All right?!! What is THAT supposed to mean??  
"Fine," I said, hanging up. Knowing she'd call back, I quickly dialed John's number. The phone rung once, twice...  
"Hello?" Miffed. It wasn't John.  
"Um...Magneto?" I heard someone huff on the other side like he didn't want to be exposed.  
"Yeah? How do you know me? And if this is another telemarketer..."  
"Naw, it's not. It's Rogue." Pause.  
"The...X-Men?"  
"X-Man, and can I speak to John?"  
"He's not here."  
"Why not?"  
"He went somewhere."  
"Well, then, can I speak to Peter?"  
"Who's Peter?" And the acolytes call him their 'Lord'.  
"The other acolyte, did you forget?"  
"...no..." Then the phone was handed over, and after that came a familiar voice.  
"'Elo?" Peter. I smiled to myself, playing with the cord.  
"Hi, Petey. You wanna come over to see a movie?"  
Silence. "What movie?"  
"I don't know. Some chick flick."  
"At your place?"  
"Wherever."  
"I don't know if I can..."  
"I'll invite Koshka." He couldn't turn down that.   
He didn't. "What time?"  
"Right now. I'll throw in some popcorn." Then hung up. I have to go if I want to catch Kitty and Peter and some movie.  
Oh, I can't wait. For once, I'm doing something on a Monday.  
  
Later  
  
It was hard to get Kitty to see a movie. She whined like a school girl that she had cooking class and that she had no time. I told her to take the fast lane for once in her life and ditch the class. It took some work, but she finally sat down with me on the couch, waiting for Peter. When the popcorn was ready, there came a knock on the door. It wasn't deliberate or anything, just a bit surprising. I rushed over to the door as Kitty opened the microwave for the ready popcorn. But there was no Peter at the door who stood waiting.  
It was Lance.  
"Alvers," I said, in a low voice. He rose his eyebrows, unknowing.   
"Hi, Rogue," he said, dauntingly. "Is Kitty here?"  
"She's not in the mood to talk to you."  
"Well, why not?"  
"That's a real smart question. Why don't you answer it yourself?"  
"Can't I just see her?"   
"And risk her getting hit again? I rather say no." Lance's eyes fell to the floor. His ears went red; he was uncomfortable.  
"I didn't mean no malice," he admitted, like a dunce. I leaned on the door frame, and suddenly spotted Peter up the walk.  
Uh oh.  
"Um, why don't I meet you somewhere so we could talk about this when Kitty's not around?" He lifted his head, his face brightening.   
"Really?"   
"Yeah -- how 'bout tomorrow? I'll, um, meet you outside Bayville High after school, 'kay?" I could see he wanted to smile, but kept his jaw clenched.   
"Sure. Bye Rogue." Then he turned, saw Peter, and glanced at me sharply.   
"Go. I invited him to see a movie with me," I explained, and sent Lance on his way. Peter passed him, his face stony. He was wearing his zipper jacket and carried a box of chocolates. He met my eyes; smiled. I couldn't help but smirk back, hoping Lance didn't get any weak signals coming his way.   
"'Elo, Rogue," Peter said, handing me the chocolates. He followed me in, and I sat him next to me before popping in "Mr. Deeds" in the DVD player. Kitty came in with popcorn and greeted Peter warmly.   
"Petey brought chocolate." I told her. Kitty's smile widened, taking the box.   
"Oh, Delacare! How'd you know they were my favorite?" she asked.   
"We're sharing, remember that," I sniggered at her. She shrugged and ripped open the box.   
"Thanks," she reinstated, and sat next to Peter for the sake of the moment. "So, Petey," she said, handing me the box, "how's Magneto?"  
"Trying to come up with another plan to take over the world," Peter said, truthfully. Kitty smiled, popping the chocolate into her mouth.   
"Peter has a marble collection," I prepped, trying not to be thrown into the background. Peter gave me a face that said, why did you say THAT? Kitty laughed.   
"Are you serious?? What kind of marbles do you have?" she asked, and I wondered if it were to spike a conversation. Peter looked bewildered as he told her.  
"I don't know. Glass marbles, I guess."  
"Well, for one, I have a rock collection -- you've seen it right Rogue?" I looked at her with confusion.  
"Sorry, no..."  
"That's a surprise, given what you haven't, like, seen in our room. Well, I'm a big fan of rocks, believe it or not. Lance..." she trailed off, thinking. I knew her thoughts, and asked if anyone wanted soda to change the subject. When I came back with their drinks, I found Kitty had finished the chocolates and Peter actually laughing! It was outrageous, to the tell the truth.   
During the movie, I saw Peter's eyes focus on something so very familiar to him - the necklace. Kitty hadn't taken it off since her fight with Lance, and Peter couldn't help but talk about it.  
"That's a really nice necklace, Kitty," she giggled when he said her name, thick in his accent.   
"Thanks, Petey. I think John gave it to me, like, I'm not sure." I knew Petey wanted so bad to tell her it was from him, but he held his tongue - very impressively, I should add.  
"Oh. Its look is nice on you."  
"Thanks," Kitty said again.  
The movie, I should say, ended too early. Or Peter had to go too early. Either way, Kitty was upset, to say any more.  
"You will come, like, over again, right, Petey?" she asked, as we walked him to the foyer. I opened the door and noticed the wind was really blowing something drastic. I smirked, distracting myself and focusing on Peter. He couldn't rip his own eyes from Kitty who was playing with the necklace around her neck.   
"Of course, Katja," he said, and I raised my eyebrows at the new name. Kissing both our hands (with Kitty giggling like a petty fool) Peter went on his way and finally disappeared from our sight. Turning to Kitty, I asked what that was all about. She shrugged, and said he was my friend. Then, she skipped out of the room, smiling.  
Score one for the giant.  
  
February 18, 2003 4:14 p.m., in my shared room  
  
Lance met me outside as I was heading to hitch a ride with Remy. He caught me by the arm and pulled me behind a tree, making me face his unmasked impudence. I had forgotten all about our little meeting; I was caught off guard.   
"Lance--?" his face turned sincere before I could go on.   
"Hey Rogue." He slowly let go of my arm and stood, shaking. "I'm ready for whatever you are gonna throw at me."  
"What-- oh," I said, suddenly realizing he was talking about Kitty. Still shaking, he gave me a crumpled smile.  
"So how was the movie?" Great. I avoided his eyes at any case.  
"Good. So what would you like to know?"   
"Um, how is Kitty doing?" a reasonable question.   
"She's..healing," I replied, flatly. He dropped his eyes to the ground, hurt. "And how are you?" I asked, mock rising in my voice.   
"Empty," he replied, truthfully. I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the guy, understanding he didn't mean anything on that night of their last date. "I'm...very empty."  
"I got the point," I rasped, hoping he'd get the gist I didn't want anyone wanting me to give pity. He noticed; shut his mouth.  
"Look, I have to get back to the House but I wanted you to give her this." He searched through his pocket; pulled out a note and shoved it into my hand.   
"I don't know..." I said slowly, and saw hurt rise in his eyes.   
"I don't care if you read it. Just as long as Kitty gets it." Then he walked away. I didn't have anymore to say and now am debating whether to read it or not.   
  
Two minutes later   
  
Finally decided to open it. It read:   
  
Kitty:  
If anything, please hear me out. I don't want to sound crappy or delusional, but I'm sorry. That's about it. I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry for being jealous, for not believing you about the necklace, about John... I miss you. There isn't an hour that goes by that I don't strum my guitar and your name pops into my mind. I'm going crazy, just writing this letter. Forgive me, please -- I can't bear to see you hurt because of me.  
Please,   
Lance  
  
Oh. That's um, nice. I mean, I wouldn't forgive him - no. If he had the audacity to hit me, let alone hurt me, I wouldn't forgive him. But he ain't my boyfriend. I should get this to Kitty A.S.A.P.  
I wonder what she'll say.  
  
Later, 6: 15 p.m.  
  
Kitty actually -laughed-. She read it and I thought she was going to cry and lock herself in the bathroom or something, but then she handed it back to me and laughed! I asked what she thought was so funny, and she stood back and wiped the tears from her eyes.  
"He expects too much. And frankly, I, like, can't take anymore of it. This," she pointed to the letter in my hand, "proves everything. You can tell him to take it back and, like, stick it up his..."   
Before she could finish though, the phone rang.   
It was Ritzy.  
"Rogue." That quiet voice again. For the second time this week, I felt my stomach churn.  
"What is it -now-, Ritzy," I asked, exasperated. She noticed; lowered her voice.  
"Please, just listen to what I have to say right now." I huffed; curled my tongue.  
"Make it quick --"  
"Don't worry, I can." Silence. I rolled my eyes to myself knowing that even though we weren't face to face Ritzy could see my expressions. She wavered a bit as she spoke. "I didn't mean to leave you out there, in Vale Barrens I mean. I was being a jerk, that's all. I was so angry, angry that you didn't tell me that I couldn't...my brain.. it just..."  
"B*tch," I said, lowly. She stopped talking, obviously shocked.  
"What?"   
"B*tch. You weren't a jerk, you were a -b*tch-."   
"Oh." Thick pause. "Okay, b*tch then. I was a b*tch."  
"Good, you admit it." I suddeny felt myself satisfied; elated. Ritzy again was surprised.  
"Is that all you wanted?" Again, she knew my feelings. I smirked to myself; she saw that too.  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, yes."  
"Well, then, I don't have to tell you anything, my explanation?"  
"I know your explanation." It was the truth; I knew her as well as she knew me.  
"Okay, then. So you want to catch the Late Flicks tomorrow? I mean, like old times..."  
"I know, old times." I paused, contemplating on my sheer streak of dejection. "I'll see you tomorrow then." Then I hung up. It was all glorious.   
Now that I think about it, I should've never forgiven her. But again, blame it on my renitence.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews:  
Randirogue: I'm glad you made yourself read this - and enjoy it as well! And about your questions - they might take a few (or a lot) of chapters to answer, and for that, I do hope you can follow as it does. Thank you for also putting me on your favorites' list!  
Evolutionary Spider: Lame attempt? Is it lame if I laughed? (of course not) Aren't I just dastardly, making John be evil&good? Also, you aren't the only one wondering who trashed Rogue's Roses! Me for one...  
Evilbon32: Hehe. Although I like the request, I'm not exactly violence personified...but then again...it is..Jean...  
Lady MR: Ack! You read my mind for the next book! How can I ever keep anything a secret with people reading my mind over the internet! (laughs nervously) And I'm sorry that John makes you depressed. Again, how dastardly I am...  
Lilsweetcherryblossom: To tell you the truth, I'm not sure about how many chapters - but expect A LOT since Three Months is a long time...  
Klucky: Then you'll be looking forward to it being in March? Because that's where I was thinking of Remy meeting the Greys...  
Fuzzy Elf: Well, you know, love can do crazy things to people (can we say BUT IS IT REALLY LOVE??!) Hope you'll keep reading to find out if it really is!  
Flyby Stardancer: Well, you can never expect much from people these days - I mean, teachers are hired without degrees, surgeons leave surgery instruments in their patients, etc. "Remy blew up the Rehab Center"? That's a classic!  
Starlightz6: Aw, I'm sorry you don't like John. I mean, I don't blame you, being that he's trying to get Remy off Rogue's mind. And the roses, well, all I can say is that jealousy can move anybody. Just have to find out who...  
Sujakata: Oh! Doesn't everyone want to hope?! ~_^ Keep reading and find out!  
Samman: I'm glad you caught subtle hints that create allusions (from story to real life). Just trying to make the story interesting - I also like to play with Rogue's character and Remy's and Jean's... for the sake of my sanity and thist story's.  
Pyromaniac: Hey, can't stop you from liking John slash, it's only my opinion *smiles*. Poor Rogue... John's interfering with her heart - wonder if Remy'll stop him...  
IshandaHalf: No matter. Remy is a butt, I totally agree. And remember, answers will come [eventually] so be vigilant! And I threw in AJ for the sake of rehab. Couldn't think of anyone else famous.. *big grin*  
Gaea: Jealous of John...or jealous of Rogue? Just a thought... keep you thinking... 


	13. Revelation

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Author's Notes: There's a little note on my bio for you all to see - updates on my site, fanfiction contest, etc. Click on my pen name to see more! This is a short chapter - but you'd understand if you read it. Sorry :( no responses this chapter since I'm rushing today [band practice] Busy Busy Busy...  
Chapter Thirteen: Revelation   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
February 19, 2003 12:39 a.m. in my shared bed  
  
It has been a long night. I'm tired, frustrated. My eyes are dry; they are sore with insolence and defiant tears. It no longer lingers within me - I must exhort this abhorrent situation I am entangled with.  
-Ritzy is Mystique-.  
How in all this time, this situation, how could I be so - blind-? How could I not see in the first place?? She was best friend, the one I -trusted-. Now I have -no one-.   
The night was cold; snowy. I called John earlier, and when there was no response, left a message that if he had a chance, to come by Holly's Drive and watch some movies with Ritzy and me. It was that call I didn't regret.   
The night was.. one not to remember.   
Ritzy (or should I say Mystique?) came by and picked me up so we could go see the Flicks. We talked about school, how Ms. Fielton's class was so hard, detention with Kelly. Like old times. After purchasing the tickets and popcorn, we sat down and that was when everything started.   
"Rogue," she said, the room growing dark. "I-I have a few confessions to make."  
"Really?" I was hoping she'd not continue (they were playing Gangs of New York), but she did anyway.   
"Um, first, how's Kurt?" I didn't know why she cared - she barely seen or talked to him. But of course I knew -nothing- then.  
"Fine. Why do you ask?"   
"Because... Rogue, I shouldn't go on, should I?"  
"I don't see why you shouldn't, but I don't care if you do. Just speak." I was growing impatient; didn't see the significance in her small speech. Ritzy put her head down; ate popcorn.  
"I gave Lance that letter." I stopped watching; diverted my gaze to her purple hair.  
"What?!" I asked loudly. Some people shushed me, but I didn't care. Hissing, I put my popcorn in my lap and continued my interruption. "How could---why---"  
"I couldn't bear to see Lance oblivious to everything!"  
"Why--? Do you like Lance? Tell me, Ritzy!" I demanded.  
"I don't! I swear, I have not one feel for him! It was just...so unfair!"  
"Unfair?! You could've killed people, and knowing Lance...he can't control his temper!!" I stood up; people threw popcorn and shouted.   
"You can't help people like you do with Peter -- if he can't face Kitty, then he shouldn't face her at all!"  
"He's trying his best..."  
"Why do you stick up for him? Kitty already has Lance..."  
"Why are you making this a big deal, Ritzy?"   
"You wanted to know...!"  
"I said I didn't care if you went on... I never knew it was about THIS!!" I got hit by an empty bucket of popcorn, but could've cared less. "Ritzy... you are a..."  
"Look, Rogue! I don't need to hear your insolence... I'm out of here!" And with that she started stomping out of the theater. I followed, obviously fuming. How could she have the heart to do something like that - put Peter on the line and Kitty's and Lance's relationship to a devouring, sickening twist?! It didn't make sense.  
"Ritzy!" I called after her. She turned, her eyes blazing violently. Locking her arms, she gave me a hard glance. "Don't you dare walk away from me! I'm not finished talking to you!"  
"Why should you be? I mean, after all I've tried to do..."  
I didn't understand. "What?"  
"I'm trying to show you who I really am...what I'm fully capable of being..."  
Suddenly, she took hold of the door handle, gave it a crooked twist - loosening it from her grasp, and threw it at me.   
"What are you doing?!" I cried, dodging the handle. Seeing people fill the concession stand, I quickly ran out after Ritzy into the pouring snow, which filtered from the sky like confetti. I didn't understand - but I wasn't gonna give up without knowing. Taking a sharp turn around the building, I ran into her. She didn't fall though, and I noticed her eyes turn brilliant gold - when they were supposed to be blue.  
"Who --are you?" it was a scary moment, seeking such in a dire time. She looked suddenly scared, giving me her hand.   
"This isn't the time to know..."  
"Now is always the right time," I reasoned. She looked at me, sadly.   
"Let me leave. I don't want to hurt you..."   
"Why would you?" I asked. Suddenly, someone came from behind, and took hold of Ritzy. I stared at this start.   
It was John, and he wouldn't let go of her.  
"John?" I asked, backing away. He shook his head, hard.   
"Rogue... she's not..." Ritzy then twisted out of his grasp and kicked him hard. He fell and she continued to kick him. I tried to take hold of her arm, but she resisted and pushed me away.  
"I told you to let me leave!" she screamed, her voice changed. I was scared; didn't know what to do.  
"Who are you?" I asked again. Ritzy advanced towards me, her face distorted in wild dejection. Without knowing, Ritzy was knocked down by John who had come back to finish her. I screamed; disbelieving. Rushing to kill John, I suddenly saw Ritzy transform into ---Mystique. Standing there like a fool, I turned to John is dismay.  
There was nothing left to do except leave.  
He put his arms around me and started to walk with me out of Holly's Drive, leaving Mystique to be found by the crowd inside.   
"How did you know she wasn't, well, Ritzy?" I asked, shielding my face from the falling snow. John kept his arms around me and scuffled his feet against the cold sidewalk.  
"She was dropping all the hints in da world, love. You didn't hear?" He told me about coming in after the movie started and took a seat behind us. I guess I didn't notice him the whole time I was screaming at Ritzy.  
"I didn't understand," I clarified, taking his hand. We walked the rest of the way in silence until finally we reached the Institute's door. Climbing up the steps, I turned back to John, wondering.  
"Why are you always there for me?" He looked at me, eyebrows raised. Then he let go of my hand and smiled.  
"I'm really not sure." My eyes followed him out and I finally entered, my clothes damp. Passing Scott's room, I noticed the light was still on and knocked lightly on the door. When no response came the second I waited, I turned on my heel to walk to my room. Not fast enough, for the door was opened and out popped Remy's head, his eyes following me with contempt.   
"Out late, Cherie, eh. How was it?" I turned to him, hands on hips.  
"Wished for better, that much is true," I responded.   
"Better than me non drinkin' t'day?" he asked, doubting. I smiled sadly.  
"Sorry, non." And continued to walk to my room.   
"Aren't you gonna tell me what is den?" I turned back to him, shrugging.   
"Let me go to sleep, Rems. I'm tired." Then walked away. It was all so sad, I rushing away and then slamming the door. Kitty jumped and yapped like a small dog for making her wake up. I then buried myself in my sheets and cried and cried and cried.  
It was all so sad, to say the least.   
________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 


	14. Turning Point

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Chapter Fourteen: Turning Point  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
February 20, 2003  
  
I'm hiding under my bed, hoping no one will be able to find me, mostly Jean. This is terrible, terrible, terrible. She calls everyone down, right, and I'm like, another wedding announcement? And it was: but she was like all upset and everything and I was wondering if it was because she couldn't find a wedding dress or gained a pound or whatever she has to cry about, but it wasn't what I expected.  
"People," she said, hands clasped together on her jeans, "there's been a rearrangement of the...er...arrangement." I rolled my eyes and looked around the room, trying hard not to pay attention. Scott was sulking in the shadows - he was proved fine by Xavier and now will have to move back to his room. Jean, I heard was relieved, since Scott started to ask her to wash him.  
"My sister will not be able to make it to my wedding," she said, her voice breaking. Ororo handed her a tissue, she blew, and continued. "So, now the space for Maid of Honor has been reopened." It was like somebody dropped out of the Olympics. I really wanted to fall asleep, really, I did. "And after much deciding, I've chosen ~Rogue~ to be my new maid of honor."  
I choked on my spit; wished I had heard wrong. Glancing around I saw Logan put a hand over his eyes while shaking his head, Jubilee frowning twistedly, Xavier falling off his wheelchair again.   
"What -why????" I asked, standing up. Jean, again, looked appalled.   
"Well..." she said, recollecting herself.   
"Why do you have to drag me into this stupid thing??" Then raced up the stairs.   
So there you have it. I'm not coming out unless Jean changes her mind. She can do without a maid of honor, much less a sixth bridesmaid.  
  
Later, 5:13 p.m.  
  
Jean came in, got down on her knees, and -begged-.   
I am not kidding.  
She was all, Rogue, and I was hiding so I didn't answer and she came in anyway, scuffling her socked feet and continued to call my name.  
"You can't hide forever," she said, and looked behind Kitty's bed. "Come out, Roguie. I won't hurt you." I guess she saw my hand or something, because she then said, "Fine. You want to play this game, then might as well play it well." Then she got on my bed and started jumping. Everytime the matress went down, I was pressed to the floor. I think I have matress burn on my shoulders from all of that.   
Finally I screamed, "Get off! I'm coming out!!" So she did and I did and we looked at each other for a moment.   
It was -very- disgruntling.  
"Well?" I asked, sitting on my bed and rubbing my shoulders. She looked at me, and started playing with my covers.   
"You still haven't made your bed," she commenced, and I slapped her hands away.   
"What do you want with me?! I'm trying to stay sane eating your cake, sampling your music, wearing your damn dresses! Now you want me to be your maid of honor???" She looked at me, unruffled.  
"Yes." Was all she said. I wanted to pounce, take her throat in my hands and choke her. Again, I reminded myself to stretch my patience. The time will come when I'll finally crack and kill her. But not now. "Look Rogue. I know you want to be free from this whole mess, but hear me out. You don't even know the reason why I picked you."  
"Do I -want- to hear it?" I asked, giving her a hard look. She ignored it and pressed on.  
"I mean, I rely on you for most of my wedding, and all those things you've mentioned before really made me think. And when my sister cancelled on me, I thought, Rogue deserves this place more than anyone. And I thought you'd be happy." Her eyes blurred, and she started to cry. Cry, cry, cry. Well, I've seen her technique work with Remy and Logan and Xavier, but it won't work with me.   
I used up all my soft side for Peter.   
Then she got down on her knees and started to beg - even threw her arms around my legs and cried and wailed. That's what got to me, seeing her being low for once and finally I cracked.  
"Fine. I'll be your stupid maid of honor." She got up and smiled. Then she just stood there, smiling like a dratted idiot and I asked, "What are waiting for?"  
"Can I hug you?" she asked. I looked at her, dismayed.  
"I gue--" then she threw her arms around me and rushed out the door screaming that she was going to bring me to Danlie's first thing tomorrow.  
Good GoD. There goes MY sanity.  
  
February 21, 2003  
  
My dress is peach. I mean, it's the color peach and its - well, Jean bought it. It's like, getting resown so I guess it's all right.   
She took me to Danlie's just like she promised. Danlie, I'm sure, wasn't too happy with the gown change. But no matter. She took us to the back room, where she keeps expensive dresses of all sorts. Then she left Jean to prowl through. It took her a couple seconds to find the peach dress. She motioned me to go to the dressing rooms to try it on.  
So I was, and didn't like it very much - too many peticoats. Then when I had finally zipped the back up, there came a knock on the door.   
"Jean, I hate it," I shouted, through the door, glancing back up at the mirror. There was a shuffling of feet, and then a low voice.   
"It isn't Jean. Can I come in?" Wondering, I got off the elevated block and opened the door slightly. A glint of red and my heart skipped a beat.   
"Remy?" my voice croaked; I immediately turned red in spite. Then opening the door a bit wider, I felt my throat rasp in genuine surprise - it was Scott.  
"Don't mock me," he said, still standing by the door. For a minute we were silent, letting the door do its job. Then I spoke up.  
"Um, why are you here?" A corner of his mouth stood up; he looked conspicuously giddy.  
"Jean said you would be here." I looked at him for a moment longer, annoyed.   
"Good answer," I replied, and tried to shut the door, but he caught it with the palm of his hand.   
"Wait, Rogue." I held the doorknob tightly. My pride hurt, I let him dare to keep me waiting. He did. "I was just thinking--"  
"If this is about another effort to get Jean..."  
"No, I -- I already lost that battle." He looked slightly depressed; his shoulders sagged. I sighed; tapped his upper arm.  
"It ain't a war," I reasoned, and he glanced up at me.   
"Uh, yeah." Then, a smile. It was small but it told me a lot. "I was just thinking about, well, you know, how you helped me -try- to get Jean..."  
"Don't remind me," I said, and he stifled a small laugh.   
"Okay, but I wasn't directing this conversation at that direction..." He paused and glanced up at me. "Look, I could help you with like maybe your geometry homework or something..."  
"I don't have homework, Scott." I sighed, and rolled my eyes. "Look, I can't help you with Jean..."  
"This isn't about Jean," he told me, angrily. I stood; startled, as he continued, spitting fire. "Why does everything I try to do have to conclude with having to do with Jean? I'm through with that wench..." He stopped, recalling his words. Obviously stunned, I nodded, understandingly.  
"I-I'm sorry, Scott. I guess I'm just used with you trying to use me for -that wench-." I tried to close the door again, but he caught it once more. I looked at him, growing irritated.  
"I know. I owe you. Big time." Again, that small smile.   
"I'm listening," I said, standing by the doorframe, interested. He came closer, his face inches from mine.  
"How about dinner? At Piccolo's?" I scanned my mind, remembering the last time we went there: disaster.  
"Will Jean be there?" Behind his red glasses, I saw his eyes close.  
"No, Rogue. We've already been through this..."  
"I'm just clarifying things." He smiled, bringing a hand and playing with the ruffles on the dress I was wearing.  
"So? Is that a yes?"  
"I guess," I said, taking his hand away from my dress. He looked at me like an idiot and grinned.   
"I'll meet you there at six," he confirmed and went on his way.   
So. Dinner. With Scott. I'm just saying I cannot be anymore interested. And without Jean, this could get VERY interesting.   
  
Later, 8:25 p.m.  
  
Scott stood me up.  
THAT DIRTBAG STOOD ME UP!!!!!   
I was sitting there, in the reserved table, waiting and waiting for that stupid a-hole to show up, and I'm continuously looking up at the clock, then whenever somebody came, then back at the clock. He said six, I know he did, I kept thinking, crushing the breadsticks under my fingers. Twice, a busboy tried to fill my glass or make me order, but I said I'd wait some more.   
Boy, was I stupid.  
So, seven o' clock rolls along, and then guess who comes in. Logan and Ororo. I couldn't let them see me, a loner even outside of school (and the excuse of Scott stood me up is not really thrilling to speak of) so I darted out the back door. Little did I know that there was an alley that rounded the restaurant, but I wasn't really aware and ran into the other side of town. It was quite dark and I couldn't see much, but I could smell stray bits of alcohol and cigarette smoke from the hookers and the drug dealers (Bayville ain't the greatest back there). And so I'm walking and everything and when everything just cannot get any worse, it starts to snow.   
And hard. So there I was, walking to GOd-knows-where with no sweater (for once, I thought Scott wasn't the a-hole he is and wore the red dress that Xavier gave me), under the falling snow. I was freezing, stood up, deserted. And walking through the streets of Bad Bayville. A couple of times, some drunkards staggered across the walk, shouting insolence and insults to hookers, and one actually went up to be and asked to come with him to some shack. I ran, daresay, away from him.   
A little farther down the street, I saw a small light come from under a light post. And under that, was a stand with a person sitting behind it. Walking briskly past it, I heard a bellowing voice say, "Well, miss. You don look like anyone from dis part o' town. How 'bout coming' over an' playing cards a bit?" I looked over at him, wondering. His face was covered with his hood, and under his hand was a couple of cards.  
"Play fo' what?" I asked, keeping my distance. I heard him snort a laugh and laid down three cards.   
"Find the King between these two Queens." I came over as he mixed the cards. He stopped; I picked the middle one. He turned it over - it was a Queen.  
"Oh, so sorry, miss," he said, and then turned over the right card next to the one I picked. It was the King.   
"I don't win the King," I mumbled, looking at the person. There was a swift pause; the man removed his hood. I don't know what hit harder - me against Remy or the table with his cards, but I could've cared less. I threw my arms around him and knocked him hard to the ground, but he was laughing, his arms around me.   
"Cherie, dis ain't too good f' business," he said, but didn't let go of me. Like I would've let go of him. We sat up, and he took out his trench coat and wrapped it around me. "What happened? It's not like you's be roaming dis side of Bayville, any," he whispered, stroking my hair away from my face. I looked at him, discerning. He was concerned - his eyes crimson against black, hard and crippling. I looked away, my face burning. I told him about how Scott wanted to repay me and that he never showed. Remy listened, putting away his stand and walking with me into the familiar side of Bayville.  
"So that explains de dress?" I flushed, angered with myself.   
"Don't remind me." He looked away for a moment, collecting.   
"Could o' been a good date?" I glanced at him quickly.  
"No," I said, clutching his arm tighter. "I wouldn't say it was gonna even be a date." He stifled a laugh and suddenly stopped walking.   
"The Cafe's still open," he muttered. I looked over his shoulder and spotted the small Clairemont's shop, glowing brilliantly against the snow. "C'mon. Mon treat." So we walked in and ordered two mochas, taking a seat inside because they had cleared the wicker sets (Clairemont's appreciates their scenics but more, the furniture). Snow melting under us, we drank in silence, before Remy pulled out the shaker containing the powdered hazlenut.   
"Go on - 'fore they find out," he cautioned, and I poured and hid between my hands. There was a pause, before Remy pulled out something in a small box. I drew in my breath before realizing what it was.  
"It's beautfiul, ain't it?" he pushed it towards me and I could feel tears clouding my eyes. It really was something - dimonds encrusted in a silver band. He took it out and handed it to me. "Inside the band, there's an engravement." I looked at it, reading it aloud.   
"Together Forever." My eyes shifted away, putting it back into the box. My fingers shook violently as I pushed it back him before he laid a hand on my own.  
"Somethin' wrong, Cherie?" I pulled my hand away from him, getting up and knocking the table a bit. Coffee spilled unto the counter.   
"I - I need air." I rushed to the door, tears falling down my cheeks. The cold air stung; I felt my throat throb. Sniffling, I stared out into the distance just as someone pushed off the wall, and I had to look twice before confirming it was John. He came over to me just as Remy joined my side. Instantly, their eyes met. John's flashed violently, like a sea before a storm.  
"Cherie, you better come back inside," Remy whispered, but John took my arm and pulled me towards him.  
"There's a little thing called abstinece, Rems. Shouldn't ya be with Jean?" Remy's eyes narrowed.   
"What are you doin' here, Johnny? Dis ain't no place fo' you." John sneered; entwined his fingers with mine.  
"If Rogue's here, then I'm right at home." Remy balled his fists angrily. I saw what was about to happen and ripped my hand from John's.   
"You both are insane!" I screamed, and ran away. I mean, now that I think of it, I should've said something like, I hate you both! Or I hope you both die! But I really wasn't thinking straight right at that moment.  
I ran all the way home. I guess I would've died from the cold without the trench coat still around me, but I pulled it off of me and threw it at Jean, who was passing by in the hallway.  
If anyone asks, I'm under my sheets, dead, because that's what I'd rather be anyway.   
  
Later Later, 2:23 a.m.  
  
John called. It was like two in the morning and I was sleeping, and then all of a sudden, the phone rings and Kitty growls, "Get it, it's your line!" So I roll over and answer it.  
"Hello?"  
"G'day, Sheila."  
"Tell me why I shouldn't hang up on you."  
"For what reason? The Remy one or how early it is?"  
"The early issue." Pause.  
"So are ya gonna hang up?"  
"Tell me what you want, dammit. I'm awake already anyway."  
"Well...first off, are ya mad at me?"   
"What makes you ask?"  
"The fact ya ran away kinda gave it away."  
"(sigh) I wasn't...I didn't run away for that."  
"Was it what I said?"  
"No, I know your point. It was well subsided, of course."  
"Ah, big words used incorrectly. Dat sounds like ya, Rogue."  
"I just can't understand, John. He asks me to a cup of coffee and then when everything's going great, he shows me Jean's ring. You should've seen it - But it also told me I am just a friend. Just a friend. So I was kinda glad you came in when you did."  
"Well, Sheila, what did ya expect? He's gettin' married, fer Pete's Sake."  
"I know. But how can he be so blind? I mean, she's not even his type..."  
"Think of this, Sheila, would he ask her ta marry him if he didn't know dat?"  
"Well, then, what do you think it is about?"  
"Well...I think it's because he's in love. Wouldn't ya? Wait...don't answer dat."  
"I wasn't gonna. So, what do you think I should do?"  
"Ya could...move on," he said.   
"Move on?"   
"Or...tell him you love him."  
"Are you INSANE?!"  
"I'm implying the probable. Reconsider it? Fer Remy?" I looked away, listening to Kitty's breathing in the darkness.   
"John," I said, playing with the cord. "I do love him. You know that."  
"Of course." He sounded far-off; remote.   
"And what will happen if I do? You know, tell him?"   
"Well, he'll say dat's nice, shake your hand, and then marry Jean."  
"Or?" I couldn't help asking for an alternative.  
"Or he'll say thank ya, shake yer hand, and walk away without marrying Jean. Satisfy ya any?"   
"You mean you weren't serious?"  
"(Sigh) Reconsider okay, Sheila? For my sanity?"  
"Hey, you're the one who called."  
"Good night, Rogue." Then he hung up. Thinking about it, I doubt Remy would actually care. But John has a point.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews:  
  
Fuzzy Elf: Well, in a few chapters back (I'm guessing here) Rogue found Remy staying in Scott's room because Jean was keeping wedding presents in his room. Oh, and Band Practice WAS fun. Thanks for asking!!  
  
Thanks Yous for putting me as a Favorite Author^.^: Bri Yami-neko, The Little Reveiw Fairy, and Maritza Manga. Thousands of kisses and tipping hats to you all!!! 


	15. Love Untold, Hurt Unrevealed

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Chapter Fifteen: Love Untold, Hurt Unrevealed   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
February 22, 2003 5:17 p.m.  
  
No, no, no, no. This CANNOT be happening. You know, someday, I just HAVE to leave this manor. I can't LIVE here without making my life a frickin' SOAP OPERA.   
Scott knows I like Remy. SCOTT. I wouldn't be surprised if Jean knew too. But this is BAD. How do I know this is BAD? Well, for one thing, Scott told me and now he sees it as an opportunity to get with JEAN. Okay, what a hypocrite. You know, just the other day he vows to never love her again. And then he just pops out of nowhere and says, "Hey, you like Remy."  
"As if it's not apparent," he tells me, and then flicks out a couple of photos of me talking to Remy. Of course I take them and rip them up, then throw them at Scott, but he's unruffled.   
"You stand me up at Piccolo's, then you come and give me these? How abhorrent are you?!" I shriek, looking for something hard and heavy to throw at him. But then, he grabs my arm and gives me a serious look of distrust and says, "Rogue. Listen. I had a reason to stand you up."  
"A good call on the phone would have done things and I wouldn't have the urge to kill you, Scott Summers! But since I don't want to stain my nonexistent police record, I'll restrain myself." I ripped my arm from him but then as I turn, I slammed into the last person I wanted to see at the moment: Remy.   
Of all the last people on earth, he had to be one of them.  
So then Remy smiles gorgeously and gives Scott a hampered look, saying, "Whas all dis about, Summers? You ain't making up for standing her up last night." Scott frowned, and I followed Remy's gaze to the bits of photo at Scott's feet. "What y' got dere?"  
Then Scott opens his mouth but I butt in: "Jean made him in charge of the wedding hand-outs and I said they were all wrong so he tore them up." Remy frowned, gave me an awkward look.  
"Ooookay." Then he reached into his pocket and gave me a little card. "Which reminds meh, Jean wanted me t' give you's dis. Said it was important." I looked at the card which read, "Rogue: meet me in the garage tomorrow at eight a.m."   
"Important meaning your wedding?" Remy stifled a small laugh.   
"I'll see y' around," he told me and as he passed Scott, he murmured, "You's should betta clean thet up." Scott bent down to pick up the pieces as I stuffed the card in my back pocket.   
"In charge of the wedding hand-outs? That's lower than low," he said. I cringed at him.  
"Yeah? Well, in that case I'll make sure you get the job." Then left.   
Well, I didn't find out why he stood me up or why he took the pictures. But then again, I wouldn't put it on my list to do before I die.  
  
February 23, 2003 9:35 p.m.  
  
I am -depressed-. I mean, I'm not morbidly down or morally deluded like I should be, but I know for some unknown reason that I am depressed. It takes a lot out of me to go around town, searching for the perfect wedding dress for and with the person who is marrying the person who I am in -love- with.  
And when that person is Jean, you just know I am going to be down in the dumps for a long time.  
It all started at eight this morning. She was there already, dressed in a lavender suit, scented like the flower with scarlet hair tied neatly behind her head. A simple handbag hung from her shoulder.  
"Good morning, Rogue," she said, smiling. The first thought that slammed into my brain was whether Scott told her about my infatuation with Remy or not. But then as she straightened my hair and Rocky Horror Picture Show shirt I had on, I knew he didn't. And for what reason? I'm not so sure.  
"Good morning, Jean," I replied, trying my best to not let my tone appear flat. We climbed into her SUV and pulled out of the garage, it being surprisingly quiet. Jean drove without speaking, but she did pop in her new CD of Mozart/Bach that blurred out my mind for the rest of the trip. But Jean didn't seem to mind.   
At exactly eight twenty-seven [I looked at Jean's built in timer] we parked in Danlie's Bridal Shoppe, and entered with no questions asked. Jean first rung the bell that sat off to the side of the front desk. She then turned to me, pulling at her hair in its neat ponytail.  
"I want lace." She seemed definite, and I just nodded. "I mean, lots of lace. Like in Modern Bride, sporting all this flowing lace..." Then, Danlie came out and after kissing Jean's cheeks, made us follow her to the back room.  
"You're just in time, new arrivals came in last night," she told us, all the while glowing. She stopped and I followed Jean into the room which smelled of fresh lilacs and was mounted with dresses of every formal. "Just tell me when to ring up. I'll be in the front." She winked at me and left. Jean immediately went to the dresses, pulling out this, putting back that, while I took a seat in armchairs toward the mirrors. After a while of daydreaming, I suddenly see Jean emerge from the racks of dresses, with a dress wrapped in her arm.   
"This," she mutters, flapping it out. It flew a bit, landing itself into a splendid array of lace and petticoats. It was pale white with iridescent beading around the torso. I pushed a smile and pretended to be complacent.   
"It's great," I answered, flatly. Jean was crestfallen at my tone.   
"You don't like it," she sniffed. I frowned.   
"I said it was great, Jean. I never said I didn't like it." She still wasn't satisfied.   
"Fine. I'll get a second opinion from Remy." My heart sunk.  
"You can't do that - it's bad luck to have the groom see the bride in her dress before the wedding," I argued. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. "But I like it. Try it on to see if it fits you," I suggested. She smiled and raced off. Just as she left, my cell phone rang.   
It was Kitty.  
"Hey Rogue," she said, quietly. Frankly, I was surprised.  
"Kitty? You never call my cell."  
"Yeah, well, that's because you, like, never told me you had one to, like, begin with. If it wasn't for, like, Peter I would've, like, never known." I stopped, recollecting on her words.  
"Peter? You talked to him?"  
"This morning. I thought you'd be, like, at Magneto's and found the number, like, in your drawer. Boy was he, like, confused when I called--"  
"What is this about, Kitty? Why are you calling?" She huffed into the receiver.  
"Gosh, you'd think you'd be at least a little, like, happy to hear me..."  
"KITTY!!"  
"Lance showed up at the mansion's door."  
"WHAT?"  
"He brought flowers. Carnations, to be exact."  
"Again?" I rolled my eyes.  
"Yes." She paused, reflecting. "He said, like, to forgive him."  
"Did you?" Silence. "Well?"  
"No. Peter shooed him away."  
"PETER?"   
"I invited him over - sheesh. The guy can get lonely up there, especially since he lives with Magneto." I smiled, praising Peter's luck.  
"Lance was angry. He started to rock the place, but then Peter threatened to, like, plow into him. Like, it was so..."  
"Why are you calling me again?"  
"Peter asked, like, me out."  
"REALLY?! What did you say?" No reply. "Kitty?? Answer me!!!"  
"I told him I'd, like, ask you first."  
"WHAT? WHY? YOU NEED ME TO REPLY TO A REQUEST DESTINED FOR YOU???!!!"  
"That was the idea..." I paused, racking my brain.   
"Where's Peter now?" Suddenly, Jean came back into the room, wearing the dress. I, shamefully, dropped my cell phone.  
She was absolutely stunning. The dress was apparently her size, which outlined her as if she were an angel. I blinked, then dived after my phone. She laughed.   
"Does that mean you like it?" she asked, her voice dipped in sugar.   
"Yeah," I mumbled, my face burning. Suddenly, I felt -really- ugly. "Yeah, you do." She squealed in sheer delight and giggled all the way back to the changing room. Bringing the phone back to my ear, I huffed graciously into the receiver.  
"Kitty?"  
"Like, what happened?" I closed my eyes, the image of Jean still there. I grimaced.  
"Nothing. So... what were we talking about?"   
"Peter."  
"Oh, yeah. Where is he?"  
"Sitting on the couch, waiting." Then she stifled a small chortle. "He's been here all morning."  
"You want him out?"  
"No..."  
"Then do you want to go out with him?" Pause. "Kitty? ANSWER ME!!"  
"Rogue..." Then a click. And I found myself screaming into the receiver: "KITTY? WHAT HAPPENED? KIIITTY!!" Feeling eyes on me, I quickly looked up and found Jean standing at the doorframe, a look of glee on her face.   
"C'mon Rogue. I'm ready to pay." I followed her to the front desk where she laid the dress on the counter. Playing with her hair, she looked at me with an unsure eye. "You think...you think he'll like it when he sees it?"   
"Remy?" I asked, oblivious, but it was obvious that was her answer. I nodded, sadly. "He'll...fall in love with you all over again." Jean let out a second squeal and threw her arms around me.   
"You think so, Rogue? Is it that powerful?"   
"Remy's not that hard to please." Jean slowly unfurled her hold and gave Danlie the plastic.   
"I hate to admit it, but... I am," she told me with a sigh. I closed my eyes, cursing in my mind. "I mean, the first few days after he proposed to me, I started counting every single thing that was wrong with him." I looked at her, wondering how Remy could not be perfect.   
Daresay, she answered my thought thoroughly.  
"I mean, I was really surprised when he stopped drinking and smoking and gambling. But really, that's only the surface." She took the dress, kissed Danlie's cheeks, and walked out with me. "When he cooks his soufflé, there's so much spice I'm literally coughing up sarsaparilla and chili; he wears Dakar Noir like he bathes in it, and for heaven's sake, he doesn't even make the bed he sleeps in!" She ran a dire hand across the ruffles of the dress. "He complains if he doesn't have wine without his food (which is regular since he's stopped), quivers his lip if it hasn't met a cigarette in the last five minutes, and wears that hideous, tattered trench coat..."  
"No," I said, pointing a strict finger at her. She gave me a surprised look. "Don't touch that. That's his trademark."   
"Don't worry, I haven't. He won't let me," she confirmed.   
Glad to know there was something he didn't crack under, I thought, opening the trunk to Jean's SUV.   
"But you know... he can kiss," she continued, pensive. At her words, I felt my heart slam into my rib cage. My throat throbbed and my eyes ached to cry.   
"B-Being that I don't know such experience...I-I'll take your word for it." She smiled, tucking stray tendrils behind her ear.  
"I mean, I hate it when he holds me in public, but his kiss just blows me away." She put the dress in her trunk and turned to me. "Something wrong, Rogue?" She must have noticed how anguished I felt.  
"What?! No, nothing...everything's fine." She smiled; put a hand on my shoulder.  
"Good. You want to get some coffee?" I bowed my head away as I felt my eyes cloud.   
"No thanks, Jean. I don't feel so good anymore." Her smile turned to a frown.  
"Okay Rogue. Chin up, 'kay? Life is good." We climbed into the SUV and as we were passing Clairemont's I heard Jean sigh pensively.   
"That's it." Her tone sounded with a note of finality. I turned to her, questioning.   
"What?"  
"That's it," she nodded to the wicker chairs near the bridge. "That's where he proposed."   
"What?!" I pressed my finger against the glass, dismayed. "Here?!"  
"Yeah, with the accordion player and everything." I almost killed myself there. I don't understand - why would he be so impatient with me and then make the guy sing while he proposes?!!!  
I am confused.   
And broken.   
________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 


	16. They Slowly Turn Against Me

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Chapter Sixteen: They slowly turn against Me  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
February 24, 2003 6:57 p.m.  
  
Kitty got back together with Lance.  
I don't think anyone's any more confused than me. Lance is certainly happy. And Peter I haven't talked to, but I'm sure he's devestated. But it was bound to happen, right? They were destined to stay together, right?   
But I have to ask: did Kitty break Peter's heart? She won't tell me anything. Gosh, I miss one day at the manor and no one will even fill me in, not one single detail.  
My life is complicated.  
  
February 25, 2003 3:34 p.m.  
  
Today, I called Magneto's place about fifty times to check up on Peter. When I finally got the idea it was doing no good, I took my coat off the rack and drove up to Magneto's Dome. Upon knocking on the steel door, I heard sad music drone through the building, and I immediately knew it was Peter. So I knocked harder.  
John came out, closing the door behind him.   
"Sheila," he muttered under his breath, and I tried going past him. He blocked the door with his body. "I don't think it's a good time..."  
"What happened? Is Peter okay?" John stood, his breath breaking the air. I suddenly understood. "You've heard." John nodded obscurely.  
"He purchased a harmonica and has been playing it all day. Magneto is going mad. Twice I've threathened to burn it, but Peter drove me away." He shook his head.   
"I can't see him?" I asked, obviously not faltering. John smiled sadly.   
"Peter is a bit depressed. Bad past -- I mean, we all do, right? Believe me, Sheila, he ain't in no talkin' mood." I wasn't convinced.   
"Have you tried clicking him out of his..er..depression?"   
"Too many times, love."  
"What about chicken soup? That always helps. Or what about scented candles? Soothing oil? Calming music?"  
"Dat's all fer stress, love. Besides, I've seen Peter like this before. He'll snap out of it when he's ready." Then John put a hand on my shoulder and moved me away from the dome. "Go home, love. I'll send for you when he's ready to talk." Then he brushed his fingers against my cheek and was gone.  
Of course. I'm waiting by the phone now, hoping he'd call.  
Oh please let it be soon.   
  
February 26, 2003 2:15 p.m., P.E.  
  
I skipped sixth period to go visit Peter. Detention or not, I couldn't wait any longer.   
I carried up a canister of chicken soup I had the cafeteria lady cook for me during lunch (saying it was Kelly's orders and doctor prescribed), hoping that Peter'd be there. Turns out he was - answering the door and everything.  
He was sadder than I ever imagined him being.  
"Peter?" I asked, not sure, even for myself, if it was the beloved giant I had grown to get along with. He sighed deeply; smiled sadly.   
"Rogue." He looked down as I brought up the canister.   
"Here, I brought this for you," I said, proudly. He looked at it, then at me, then thanked me, taking it. Then he was gone. I mean, I knew he was going to take it, but he didn't even LET ME IN.  
Dern, he's as confidential as Kitty.  
So then I hauled my butt all the way back to school, got my detention, and went to seventh period.  
I should get back to sprinting. Coach doesn't want slackers, and I can't afford an F.  
  
February 27, 2003 9:13 p.m.  
  
At six o' clock, I decided that I shouldn't delay on at least finding out what happened, so I knocked on Kurt's door. He always knew things anyway. Of course, I haven't seen him lately because he's been seeing Amanda more often, which I try to understand, and am doing quite well at it too.  
As Kurt opened the door, his eyes widened in surprise.  
"Rogue!" he said, with a smile. "Can I get zu something?"  
I smirked smartly. "Naw, Kurt. I just need to know what's going on."  
"Oh, you mean about Kitty and Lance? They got back together, isn't great?"  
"Yeah, hmm. I heard -that- much." Kurt's ears kind of drooped as he saw where this conversation was going.  
"Oh, zu want to know about Piotr."  
"That, if you could." Kurt bit his lip.   
"It wasn't zat great. I was up it ze staircase, but I heard everything." Like you usually do, I thought to myself, listening. "I zaw her hang up the phone and turn to Piotr. Zaid quickly that ju told her that it wouldn't be proper if she didn't go out with Piotr." I dropped my jaw.  
"ME? But I supported them!!" I howled, clenching my fists. Kurt immediately held his hands up, defensively.  
"Hey, don't take it out on me! I'm just telling ju zis ztuff. Anyway, Peter just nods and leaves. Nothing else. He didn't even cuss. Poor guy."   
I thanked Kurt and walked briskly away.   
What am I to do?? Now I know why Peter didn't want to talk to me! Oh, what am I to do??  
  
February 28, 2003 7:11 p.m.  
  
I_am_screwed. You think if at anything at all, I'd be able to control myself.   
But I just couldn't.  
My anger is an impulse. I react if I cannot restrain myself. And as amazing as it sounds, I couldn't. I have been for about two months now, and I was doing quite well too. But then, I just snapped after I saw Peter standing outside Magneto's dome, looking sober.   
I was up there again, trying to explain my position. I figured that if I could, perhaps, despite myself, try and straighten things out, maybe he wouldn't be so much as mad at me.   
He was the first to see me, of course, and almost instantly did his eyes meet mine, did he look away and turn sullen. I approached, none the less, sparing the moment, lest myself.   
"Peter," I said. He shifted; turned away from me.   
"Piotr," he said, hastily. Then after thinking: "Please." I uncrossed my arms and looked at him with dismay.   
"Piotr," I started, then he held up a hand without looking at me.   
"I-I can not stay, Miss Rogue. Magneto needs me inside five till six."  
"Oh," I said, flatly. He still did not turn to me, and I knew he expected me to go away. Yeah, right. "I just want to clarify that I told Kitty nothing..."  
"Really?" it was his turn to sound flat. I gave his back a hard glance.   
"Yes, -Piotr-. I didn't even finish anything I was about to say to her. She hung up before I could."  
He didn't say anything for a moment, then sighed. "Rogue, I know. I'm not mad about that."  
"So you're mad," I said, gloomily. He huffed and threw down something that looked like a stick.   
"At myself, yes." I sat down on a log, diciphering. "Again, Rogue. I can not stay. So Good bye. I'd lead you to the door, but we're already outside." Then, he was gone.   
And left me alone - again.   
Then, when I was returning home, I ran into Lance and Kitty who were going out. Of course, I gave Kitty dirty glances, and Lance took me by the arm and asked, "Something wrong, Rogue?"   
"Yeah - your girl over there's been a bit unnerving," I answered, hotly, still giving Kitty dirty glances. She looked away and said nothing. Lance turned to her, wondering.   
"What is she talking 'bout, Cat?"   
"Nothing," I replied for her, then heard her huff something under her breath. Taking her around, I whipped her around and asked, "What the -hell- did you say?!"  
Her eyes grew wide, and she drew her arm away from me. "Nothing." Lance suddenly pulled in between us, and I just popped him one on the jaw.   
Oh for the love of God, I thought it was almost glorious. Until, I heard the deafening -crack!- and then Kitty screamed. I backed away as Lance stumbled down, Kitty clutching his arm as he did so. Then she gave me a look which told she was both stunned and ...relieved.   
Kitty then said in an almost inaudible voice, "I'm sorry, Rogue." I stood there, watching as she helped Lance back into his jeep, and hearing the tires scurry away towards the Bayville Hospital.   
And now, I've been hiding in my room, hoping nobody will find out.  
But, that's impossible.  
  
March 1, 2003 3:13 a.m.   
  
Kitty came in at about one when I had been beside myself with panic. She came down, sat next to me, and started murmuring.   
"Rogue," she whispered. I tightened the covers around me, as if shivering. "Lance is okay - he just has to wire his jaw for a bit." I turned, obviously shocked. "I love Lance.That's why I couldn't, like, tell you -- I was afraid that you'd, like, tell Peter.  
"We got back together the, like, day after Peter shooed him away. Rogue, I was scared. I didn't want to overture that guy. Like, it looks like suicide to dump Piotr!" She ran her hands across the air, as if tracing letters. "I was thinking too, like, fast -- I mean, your name just popped out and I just said it. It was some kind of reflex." She paused, tracing the hem of her jeans. I remained silent, digressing. She noticed, and got up.   
"I'm sorry, that's all. I know Peter must be mad at you..."  
"He's mad at himself," I said, monotonous. She looked quickly at me, concerned. I sighed, continuing. "He told me he was mad at himself for believing he could take you away from Lance. He doesn't forgive himself." Kitty looked away, anguished.   
"But, like, he'll get over it, right?" Her voice was full of hopeless hope. I stared at her back, and nodded, and her shoulders dropped. Snow was visible behind the curtain.   
Then the question: "I broke his heart?"   
I looked at her for a moment longer, then let out a terrible sigh. "Good night, Kitty."   
I mean, it's a sad reality. You break one heart...  
...and you break 'em all.   
  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews:  
  
Bunny Angel: I'm not really sure whether you're trying to condemn my writing, or praise it. But in both prospects, I should have to conclude that you are a bit judgemental. Cruel person, am I? You look at Rogue and you see someone so indifferent, so oblivious - but is it really Rogue who's indifferent? You are certainly not seeing this from her prespective - the question looms: is the portrayal weak or is it weak portrayal? Have you ever taken into consideration how Rogue shows how bitter everyone is to her, but don't you think she's leaving out how bitter she is to everyone? To sum it all up - Rogue seeks this as an opportunity to extend her reach towards Remy. And about him - I can't say you'll like him any better when this piece is finished, but then again, if it is as bothersome as you have reviewed, it's pointless to read any further, taking you're already judging an unfinished story.  
  
Fuzzy Elf: Rogue's insensitivity grows! See, I DO know what I'm doing [eyes dart unsuringly across the room]. And that bit about Jean - Well, let's say you've done about read my mind. Do I have the ending written all over me? (yes)  
  
J. Dax: Like I've mentioned before, I don't think you'll like Remy anymore than right now. But hey, for the sake of a storyline...  
  
Sabby13: I was meaning for someone to catch that [or catch it and then scold me copying in the review]. What I was trying to get at was how movies can concur with a person's real life! (I've seen My Best Friend's Wedding about three times, and I can pick out at least three things that happened to me. And I've only lived so long...)  
  
Nica: It's a pleasure to keep people like you entertained with my bit of writing. Thank you for letting me know that my piece is appreciated. ^.^ [which goes to all my vigilant reviewers]  
  
Christy S: Well, hmm. Kitty got back with Lance, which means he's become nicer now. Of course she told Rogue she loved him, but why? I need to fit that in somewhere...  
  
Erica: Oh he better [gives Remy a hard look]. Well, we'll just have to wait and ... read. 


	17. Remy meets the Parents

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Author's Notes: Long delay back there, but since I only got one complaint so far, I posted this nice, long chapter hot off my fingertips! Um, so yeah. Why the hiatus? Because I was stricken with some sort of disappointment that came from one review - but then I figured I'm only kidding myself since it is only one person. So HMPH. One less person I need to please! Okay, I'm done explaining. Now one to the next chapter!!  
Chapter Seventeen: Remy meets the Parents   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
March 2, 2003 1:37 p.m. In my shared room  
  
This is pointless.   
I forgot how much time a Maid of Honor is supposed to ACTUALLY spend since she IS the Maid of Honor and has to make things all the better for the bride.  
Too bad I'm the Maid of Honor.  
Today, Jean got a phone call. It was answered by Kurt who was at the moment annoyed with Kitty for leaving out the milk and letting it spoil, ruining his cereal of the day. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading the latest of the Bayville Times, which I had stolen from the kitchen before Logan even had a chance to get to it. Serves him right, the hairy man.  
So anyway, the phone rings and Kurt grabs it, huffing a violent, "Yeah?" into the receiver. A few seconds later, his features change and attitude goes neutral. I gave him a questioning face and he talked louder so that I could hear him.  
"Oh yes, Mrs. Grey how are you?" I shot up like a bullet, wondering where in blazes was that Redhead. Kurt gave me a "go get her" face as he continued to chat with the elder. So I ran up stairs, going from room to room, looking for Jean, but she wasn't there. Goodness, where could she be on a Sunday? So I race downstairs, showing my defeat. Kurt turned back to the phone, looking worried.   
"Wha--? No, she's out at ze moment. Oh," he looked over his shoulder, eyes of gold giving me an ungrateful look. "Yes, she's here. Well, sure." Then he handed me the phone. I gave him a look of horror before hissing, "What are you doing?"  
"She wants to talk to you," he shrugged, taking my gloved hand and placing the phone there. I frowned; rose it to my ear.  
"Mrs. Grey?" There was a short pause before an old, warm voice answered from the other line.  
"Miss Rogue?" Jean must've told her about me.  
"Yes?"  
"Well, hello dear. How's everything at the manor?"  
"Great, thanks for, um, asking."  
"Oh, well, can you tell Jean to call me back?"  
"Sure."  
"Well, then, thanks dearie." There was no click. I wondered why she was still on the line. "Jean mentioned you as her maid of honor, am I correct?"  
"Certainly," I said, trying to hide the displeasure in my voice.   
"Well, we're throwing a party next weekend and I was wondering if you and the Best Man could join."  
"Um, I--"  
"I hope there's nothing going on for you then." That meant she wanted us there.   
"No, I'll tell Jean. Thanks for calling." Then I hung up.  
Turns out Jean was at the church, yelling at some guy who was delivering the trestles that was supposed to be in the pictures when taken at the wedding. Sometimes I wonder if this girl can ever rest.  
  
March 3, 2003 4:15 p.m.  
  
So I come in after school to find Remy laying on the couch, looking sullen and extremely temperamental.   
"She kick you out of Scott's room too?" I asked, putting down my backpack. He sighed, turning on his side to face me.  
"She wants moi t' meet her parents." I went into the kitchen; he followed. Taking out the bread, I popped two slices in the toaster and turned a wry look at the guy.  
"What do you think she's been doing, Remy? It's not like she doesn't just make you stop drinking for her. It's for her parents." I slammed the refrigerator door with lettuce, mayo, tomato, and slices of meat gathered in my arms. Remy came over and started watching the toaster.   
"Yeah, but I didn t'ink she was actually serious." He grabbed the lettuce and began washing it. It was my turn to watch.   
"Jean's always serious, Rems. It's like her personality. Kinda like..."  
"Scott?" He turned off the faucet and pulled at the paper towels. Wiping the leaves, I nodded.  
"So when she gonna take you over there?"   
"This weekend. Said dere's dis big party and I'm supposed t' go." The bread popped, and I threw the pieces unto the counter. Putting the meat in place, I slathered on mayo and threw in the fresh lettuce. Remy cut the tomato and placed it into the sandwich.  
"Yeah, her mom called and told me about that." I took the knife and sliced the sandwich down the middle. Remy took one half and I took the other. "Said she invited me and Kurt too."  
"Oh really?" He bit into his piece and chewed thoughtfully. "Then you's coming with us?"   
"Possibly," Shrugging, I and bit into my own sandwich. Then he smiled at me with that grin of his and started to walk out.   
"Den, I guess it won be so bad after all," he said slyly and slipped out.   
For a guy with many personalities, I'm not the least surprised at his comment.  
  
March 4, 2003   
  
Logan did it again.   
He left me to grind my teeth and wait next to THAT girl for a freakin' ride.   
Please, God. Take me now.   
I bet this is about the newspaper. For the love of GOD, it's a NEWSPAPER! If I get my hands on him, there will be serious issues dodging back and forth because of it.  
I called the manor. Xavier said he'd send for someone to pick me up.   
Augh. I can't take this abuse any longer.  
  
5:22 p.m.  
  
John picked me up.  
Does Xavier consider me arrantly dependant on John? I'm hurt.  
So anyway, I'm waiting at the Bus Stop, which has a bench and is far away from the girl that makes me sick, when suddenly, a black car stops in front of me. The driver lowers the window and the first thing I see is John, flashing me one of his famous smiles.  
"Rogue," he said, "you called?"  
I peered in, obviously confused. "Xavier called you? Why you?"  
"Fair Dinkum! I thought you'd guess," he said with a pout. "About this time everyone's out doing something or another. And of course Xavier can't pick anyone up, so he rings me in. Says he'd pay me. I said, who am I picking up, and he said Rogue. And I said, forget paying. I'll pick her up free of charge."  
"Well, aren't you sweet," a hint of sarcasm in my voice as I climbed into the passenger seat. The door closed and we took off.   
"So," John said, after a block or so, "is there anything going on for you at the manor on Saturday?"   
"Yes," I answered, avoiding to pause, "Jean's parents invited me and Kurt to their place for the weekend. Said they're throwing a party for Jean and Remy."  
Almost immediately, John's face fell. "Are you going?"  
I stared at him sideways. "Do I have a choice?" He stifled a laughed, but I knew it was something he did forcefully.  
"No, I guess not, Sheila." We stopped at the gate of the mansion, and I got out, pulling my backpack through of shoulder. Closing the door, I noticed John was gripping the wheel a bit tighter and he turned his head to meet my eyes.   
"So I'll see you?" I smiled and nodded.  
"Sure. Soon, if Jean doesn't pull me out for dress fitting." Three times, I counted in my head and cringed. John smirked and pulled out. I watched as he zoomed off, slamming the brake a bit hard.  
  
March 5, 2003  
  
I told Kitty about John and my little chat and she laughed out loud. I asked her what could be so funny and she went, "HAHAHA! Rogue you are, like, SO dense!"   
I demanded she explained her rude by simply stating that John wanted to know what I was doing on Saturday, planning to do something with -me-.   
"And then you, like, said you were going to -Jean's- house with, like, Jean and -Remy- and then he's thinking, dern. There goes my, like, night." I watched as she turned back to her new assigned book, Lord of the Flies. "Face it Rogue. You_are_dense."  
That doesn't make any sense. How could she know and not me?!  
God, I am dense.  
  
March 6, 2003   
  
Okay. There are currently six new dresses strewn upon my bed. Jean, peering into my room, demanded to see what I was taking to her parents' house and almost fell over in shock. I frowned, seeing no need of such reaction.  
"What? It's what I wear everyday, Jean," I spat, as she looked at my Gothic garb with a deluded frown.  
"Well, everyday cannot mean the week you go to my parents' house." I stopped, taken aback.   
"I'm sorry. Did you say a -week-?" Jean looked at me, annoyed.   
"My mom didn't mention this to you?"   
"Well, she said weekend, and the last time I thought about it, a weekend doesn't mean a week." Jean started clenching her perfect teeth with impatience.   
"I'm calling gonna call her," she said, going over and sitting down on my bed. After a quick dial, Jean started screaming into the phone.  
"Mom! What is this I hear about a weekend for the Best Man and Maid of Honor?" She looked at me quickly, and then went on screaming, "No! I can't believe this! You were only suppose to meet -Remy-! Remy is all I wanted to bring. What is this..."Pause. Her teeth grinded.   
"No! I can't believe this is what you WANT for me! What? Best for me? Are you kidding?!" Another quick look and more grinding of the teeth. "Are you -afraid- of Remy? Is that why you're making my friends come over too?" I wanted to burst out laughing, seeing this as an opportunity to make her gloat the rest of her life. "I can't return the plane tickets! Some sort of policy." Then I realized she wouldn't be able to get me out of this predicament. Oo, my guts grinded within me.   
"Bring them along??? Are you insane! I'm accomplishing a wedding, not a party! No, mom, -that- party is at your own consent." Pause. She hanged up the phone.   
"My -mother- wants you to come along with Kurt. Why? Why??" She then raced out of my room, flying down the stairs.   
"Where are you going?" I asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She turned at the end of the stairs without looking back.   
"Out."   
Out, and bought me six dresses. They're nothing close to black, not even purple. She doesn't trust me or my clothing.  
Oh, how Jean-esque.  
  
March 7, 2003, 3:12 p.m., on the plane to Connecticut  
  
We rode to the airport in Xavier's limo, driven by Logan. He was giving me hard glances through the back view mirror, so I was kinda glad when we finally got to our destination. Waiting to punch in our tickets, I saw Remy's face darken as he looked off to the side. Looking as well, I was surprised to find John waiting by the food court, carrying a small bear with him. Jean was at the front desk, screaming once more at the person behind the computer.   
"Grey!" I could hear her all the way to the back of the line. "Our seats read B234..."   
"Well, so our paths cross again," John greeted, coming over and patting Remy on his shoulder. "Off to the parents, or so I've heard." He gave me a sly wink and I looked away so I wouldn't meet Remy's eyes.  
"Didn' know you's be here," Remy huffed, pretending to shuffle his cards. He wore the trench coat Jean unsuccessfully tried to pry from his grasp. John smirked, undeniably miffed.   
"Oh." Then turning back to me, he handed me the bear. "Was digressing whether to get you tucker (food) or Lollies (candy). Decided on neither and bought you dis." It was a small, brown bear with a maroon ribbon. I smiled, avoiding Remy's eyes.   
"I'm glad." Then I tugged him away from Remy and Jean, who was now holding up the line since the flight attendant couldn't find our seats. Out of earshot, I asked what I've been wondering this whole time.  
"Were you thinking of taking me out on Saturday?" He looked a bit embarrassed, but nodded for an answer.  
"Good on ya* to think it up." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a receipt. Handing it to me, he explained he had bought tickets to a Weezer concert but returned them after hearing my decline. I bit my lip, sorry.   
"It's nothing, Rogue," he shrugged, but he was lying. I saw it in his eyes. "Have fun. I'll expect to see you on Monday." I frowned; he noticed. "Oh no."  
"Oh no is correct," I said, annoyed. "A week, it turns out."   
"A week?!"   
"Bad communication. It works every time." It was John's time to frown.   
"And Remy?"  
"What do you mean, 'and Remy'?"  
"He staying for a week too?"  
"He doesn't really have a choice, John." Silence. I could hear John's anger through his rasping breath.   
"Well," he said, giving my shoulder a single pat, "have fun." Then, he walked away.   
Remy gave me my suitcase and told me Jean finally got hold of our seats.   
"W' her screaming, of course," he smiled, walking with me to the Gate. "So," he said, looking at the bear, "John have anyt'in' interesting t' say?"  
"He was surprised that we're staying for a week." Remy looked at me, round-eyed.  
"What?! A -week-?" Apparently Jean hadn't told Remy.   
So, right now they're fighting with each other and I'm here, playing Evanescence really loud in my earphones. Kurt is next to me, silently trying to read while having his ears plugged.   
  
8:12 p.m., Taxi Cab No. 203, en route to the Grey's house   
  
While walking out of the gate, Jean found out that her parents wouldn't be able to meet us at the airport. We stood by the gift stores while Jean screamed on the phone: "You can't come?! Then what are we suppose to drive home in? What tone? This is what I always use with you!"  
Remy huffed, dragging luggage. "She still at her screaming?" he asked, giving me my suitcase.   
"Apparently. So you're staying for the week?"  
"Do I have a choice?" I smirked; shook my head. Kurt came over, offering newly bought potato chips.   
"For my stomach," he grinned, as Jean came over, fuming.  
"They're sending a stupid taxi," she cried, bringing a hand to brush away sweat. Catching sight of Kurt's snack, her eyes narrowed. It was like watching a lion before it makes its famous pounce on its prey. "What the heck are those?!"  
"Potato chips," Kurt said, daring to show her the contents. "Want any?"  
Jean quickly grabbed the bag, pointing at the Nutrition Facts. "23% saturated fat! Have you no CONTROL???"  
I snatched the bag from her grasp and handed it back to Kurt. "HE doesn't need control. HE doesn't have to fit into a size one wedding dress. HE..."  
"...has it made," Remy finished, standing off to the side and pouting. Jean turned to him, her eyes angered slits.  
"Are you -defying- me? Do you -want- to get into another fight?" She pointed her finger and I could see perfectly painted French nails in the light.   
"I frankly don care, Jeanie," he said. I could almost see the fire in Jean's eyes ignite.   
"Okay, go ahead! Don't care whether or not my parents neglect to even COME to the airport..."   
"That's enough Jean," I said, pulling her away from Remy, who had an bold, impish smirk on his face, "how about we go around the place, 'kay? I've never been to Connecticut."  
"But it's an airport," Jean protested.  
"It's all the same," I reasoned, and dragged her away from the guys. I bought ice cream in a cup, hoping to tempt her to eat. We sat down on a nearby table which over looked the lower terminals.   
"I don't understand," Jean said, twisting her hair around her fingers, "They're my -parents-. They should at least care whether or not I come... with my -fiancé- in fact!"   
"Careful there," I said, in between bites. Then I pushed the ice cream towards her. "Take a bite."  
She looked at it skeptically. "I can't eat that - you know such, Rogue."  
"It's ice cream," I said, stating my point. "And it's strawberry. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say this was your favorite."  
Another skeptical look. "I don't know how much calories..."  
"Eat it. I swear, it'll make your problems vanish." Jean winced; reached for the spoon. Swirling the ice cream, she eyed it carefully.   
"Vanish?" She seemed hopeful. I smiled.  
"Into thin air." That got her. She ate the ice cream, thinking.   
"I thought I'd never eat this again," she said, her voice drenched in pleasure. I smiled.   
"That's what they all say."  
"Do you think my parents really want me to get married?" she asked. I sat back; uncomfortable. "I mean, they don't show up --"  
"If they don't..." she looked at me, sadly, "then make them." Just then, her phone rung, and as she answered it, a sweet smile spread across her face.   
"Okay, we'll be there," she said, closing the phone. "The taxi's here. We better go."   
So we met Remy and Kurt downstairs and hopped into the taxi. There's no fighting and Kurt bought Jean a cookie which she's been eating while discussing wedding arrangements with Remy.   
  
March 8, 2003 6:12 a.m.  
  
We arrived last night, and were met with...   
"A bridal shower!" Jean commented, rushing into her house. Kurt and I exchanged glances as Remy was dragged behind his fiancé to meet the in-laws. Of course, the Greys had their maids haul away our luggage into the guest rooms, making us mingle with the crowd. I had worn the off-white suit Jean made me wear a few hours ago, and felt a bit awkward while moving towards the appetizer table. Kurt was bombarded by relatives before he could even get near the food, so I took a plate to him.   
And was met with the same aggression.  
"Well, hello, sweet-cheeks," greeted a relative, an arm around Kurt as he gobbled up the sushi, "I'm Clara, Jean's aunt. I see she's got some taste..." She eyed Remy with idol eyes. I rolled my own.  
"Yeah... well..." Then another grabbed my arm and flung me around. Soon I was facing a round man with an elfish glint in his eye.   
"Hey! Aren't you the back-up maid o' honor?" Then, other people introduced themselves and flooded me with questions:  
"How'd you and Jean meet?"  
"Is that your boyfriend?" (pointing to Kurt, who's actually my brother [here's where you ask how I felt])  
"What is UP with your hair??"  
And that was the whole night. But then, around midnight, I was finally shown this room and somehow woke up in this bed.   
So starts my day.   
  
3:42 p.m.  
  
When I was dressed in another of Jean's dress picks, I came out of the guest room and found Kurt standing by my door.  
"Good morning, Rogue," he said, leading me into the parlor. "Sleep well?"  
"Surprisingly," I mentioned and he snorted.   
"They're serving strawberries and cream. And I thought high society ate normal food," he coughed, as Jean suddenly approached us.  
"Come, my folks want to meet you in person," she rasped, dragging us to the table with an elder couple seated at either side. The lady stood; smiled.  
"Mom, dad, these are my two good friends, Kurt and Rogue," Jean introduced, and then hurried out of the parlor. Kurt gave me a look of regret as we seated ourselves at their table.   
"Well, aren't you two just adorable! Jean loves to tell stories about you two," Mrs. Grey said. Kurt raised his eyebrow.  
"What -kind- of stories?"  
"Well, there was once that time you fell off the roof and landed on Rogue," Mr. Grey put in. I grimaced - I had to get stitches on my elbow because of that, "and the time when Rogue had mistaken baking soda for sugar on your instructor's birthday and it exploded when you served it." Oh, that was a very expensive episode. Kurt and I exchanged uneasy glances while the parents laughed.   
"So, how's the groom? We haven't really met him yet," Mrs. Grey said, turning to me, "Aunt Clara said he's a real catch."  
"And what a fishing line," Kurt breathed, sarcastically. I pretended I didn't hear.  
"He's great. What are we doing today?" I asked, taking a strawberry. Kurt cleared his throat; motioned to my spoon. Embarrassed, I plucked the strawberry from its container with my spoon and dumped it into my plate.   
"Well, we're going off to get ready for tonight's party," Mr. Grey said, sipping his coffee.  
"Then what was that whole thing last night?" Kurt asked, dumping sugar on his plate. The cover fell off and a pile of sugar mustered in a corner of the platter. Kurt moved uneasily at the sight.  
"That was just a little gathering. Today we're inviting all the interns and associates that work with us," Mrs. Grey answered, waving to a maid. "You know, to acquaint everyone with the groom."  
Oh boy, I thought, just as a maid appeared, taking the plate away. Almost immediately, Kurt had a fresh platter that seemed to never had touched food in its wake. Until now.  
Then, Jean came in, followed by a half-awake Remy, who had pulled on a fancy black blazer and dark pants.   
The trench coat was no where in sight.   
"And this is my fiancé," Jean said proudly, as if she were a five-year-old during show and tell. "Remington LeBeau."  
I rose an eyebrow at his newfound name as Mr. and Mrs. Grey stuck out their hands in recognition.  
"It's great to finally meet you, Remington," Mrs. Grey said, happily. Remy must've woken up by then and a small smile was playing on his lips.  
"T'anks. But I'd rather y' call me Remy," he said, in a kind voice. Mr. Grey laughed.  
"But Remington is so...manly!"   
And snotty, I thought dipping my strawberry in sugar. Kurt cleared his throat again, and I reached for my spoon, attempting to smack him. Jean saw this and quickly drew the attention to me.  
"Rogue," she said, and I put the spoon down, trying to hide my scowl, "I've been telling my parents how good you are in horse racing." Horse racing?! I gave her a look that read, another white lie? She counteracted with a look that said, just play along, dammit.  
When I found her parents looking at me, I grinned awkwardly. "Twelve years," I lied, putting on a straight face, "Horse racing is my...first love." I caught Remy's eye and he returned my discomfort with a smile.   
"Is that so!" Mrs. Grey said, taking back my attention, "well, we're going to the Horse Derby tomorrow! Would you like to come?"  
"If Jean will," I grinded my teeth. She stared at me, then huffed.  
"I can't. I said I'd go shopping for dinnerware with -Remington-," she said through clenched teeth. Remy gave her a wry look.  
"Well, we do have a week t' spend here. We might as well pay de horses a visit," he said, all with a smile. Jean looked at him, then at her parents. Slowly she nodded.  
"That's perfect! We'll buy tickets and bring you four!" Mr. Grey said. He smacked his hand against Kurt, who covered his mouth with his hand. Mrs. Grey looked at her watch and said she was taking Jean and Remy to the Outfitters Club where they'd get suited and dressed up for the party. Kurt and I would have to come with what we have.   
Which is just fine. The party is at six, so now I must get ready.   
Oy vey, this Maid of Honor stuff ain't honoring nothing.   
  
March 9, 2003 1:21 a.m.  
  
I am a very bad person.  
I mean, I realize that Jean considers me a friend and Remy considers me a good friend, but you know what, I'm not.   
It all starts when I come across all these phone numbers that read "Catering" and after reading most of them, I found out that they were for the party last night. Well, thinking of a way to get out of here, I call them up and say, "Hello this is Jean Grey. I'm canceling all orders of food."  
Yes, so at six, all these snazzy people show up and Jean and her parents are there and I'm walking around with Kurt, hoping that no one will notice me, and then I suddenly see a maid rush up to Mrs. Grey and who screams, "They WHAT? Why???" At the question, the maid simply shrugged her shoulders, looked at Jean, pouted, and ran back into the kitchen.  
So then Mrs. Grey breaks the news to everyone, saying that food will not be delivered, and it's pointless to wait any longer because that's what you come for, the food, so you might as well just leave. They do, and Mrs. Grey gets into fights with Jean and her husband, so Kurt and I just kinda slink away from the commotion.   
I have had a guilty conscience ever since. I've never felt this bad since I burned LeBeau's cards.  
Leave it up to my guilty sense of right and wrong to occupy my sleep.  
  
8:39 p.m., in the guest room  
  
Groggily, I pulled on my next to nicest outfit that Jean had bought for me, and walked out into the parlor where Remy was seated drinking coffee.  
He was the only one there.  
"You're late," he said, sipping his cup casually, "They already left."  
"And you?" I asked, seating myself across from him while reaching for a strawberry.   
"Dey told me t' wait f' y'. Said t' bring y' later. Jean wants t' buy de bettin' vouchers early. Somethin' about fastest horse."  
He poured me a cup and I drank it heavily. Then I asked, "Can you keep a secret?"  
"Thet depends," he said, biting into a crumpet, "is it somethin' so lethal and vile thet I should, in fact, keep it from de world?"  
"Yes," I muttered. Remy stopped chewing.  
"Oh, c'mon Rogue, what's so bad--"  
"I cancelled those catering trucks." He looked at me through his blue contact lenses and smiled.  
"Thet's not as bad as burning my cards."I huffed, taking a crumpet.  
"I was just comparing those two situations last night."  
"And--?"  
"Burning your cards was evil."  
He smirked, and drank down the rest of his coffee. "Glad y' care." He reached for a strawberry and I placed my hand on top of his.  
"You... won't tell, will you?" he looked at me, shuddering at the silence.  
"I'm as loyal as a cat is to a human."  
"That's a dog, Rems."  
"Even betta."   
  
***  
After getting dropped off by a chauffeur, Remy spotted Jean under an Easter hat behind the bleachers. She was frowning at Kurt when we got to her.  
"Spilling a coke down your front -- do you THINK that's proper?" she scolded, pointing at his blouse. It was stained light brown and Kurt had his ears drooped like a guilty puppy that had wet the floor.  
"Take it easy, Jeanie," Remy said, sliding her arm around his. "Kurt's only being himself."   
"But--"  
"You can't change everyone," I sneered. She looked at me, an evil glint in her eye. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, her parents called us over to the bleachers.  
"We can see everything here," Mrs. Grey said, as a-matter-of-factly, and we sat, facing the race. After the first horse race had finished, Mrs. Grey turned to Remy and smiled sweetly.  
"So, Jean tells us you're planning to be a sports writer," she said. Remy looked at her, turned a twisted glance at his fiancé and then nodded sheepishly.  
"Travelin' de world is my thing."  
"But you're not thinking of taking Jean with you, right?" Mr. Grey said. Mrs. Grey nodded.  
"Well, no, if she doesn't want..."  
"But then if you leave her alone, it wouldn't be good either," Mrs. Grey butt in. Remy only gaped and Jean hid her face behind her hair. So I spoke up.  
"He's only thinking about it," I said. Remy looked at me, curiosity gleaming on his face. Then Kurt piped, "Yes. What he really wants to be is a doctor!"  
That got the in-laws going again.   
"Is that so, Remington? Well, what kind of practice will you take?"  
"Um...medical," Remy said, unsure. Mr. Grey laughed.  
"Well most doctors are medical. Would you be a pediatrician or a neurologist?"  
Remy's jaw collapsed. "Uh, yes." Then Jean stood up, pointing at the horses.  
"I think that's our horse," she commented, as the lead horse raced toward the finish line. Mr. and Mrs. Grey squealed with delight.  
"What did I tell you! Wilder's our horse!" Mr. Grey cried happily. So we walked down the stairs to collect their earnings. Remy was giving Kurt bitter looks and his ears once again drooped.  
"I always seem to make things worse," he sighed. I nudged him away, smiling.  
"You're not the only one."   
They kept betting and we stayed at the Derby until seven. Remy is taking Kurt to get a suit tomorrow, so I'll be spending quality time with Jean and her folks.   
Please, someone shoot me now.  
  
March 10, 2003 4:33 p.m., at Hartford Hospital  
  
They took me to the Vermont Stables and made me ride their best steed, Wilder.   
Apparently, they thought I could ride. I, of course, can't. So when Wilder took off running after being swatted with the reigns, I tumbled off the horse and broke my left arm.   
I think I deserved it.  
The doctor enclosed it in a cast and told me three weeks. Jean's in a frenzy now, wondering if I could still be the Maid of Honor.   
No, I wanted to cry out. This was lucky break. I can get out of this. Alive.   
But no, I'm still in since Mr. Grey brought up that it was only three weeks.   
Three weeks is a VERY long time. And having your arm in a cast isn't the least attractive either. Especially in a gown carrying a bouquet of roses.   
  
March 11, 2003   
  
I'm staying in bed today. Because I've got the broken arm and hurt pride.  
Or so Mr. Grey says.  
  
March 12, 2003, 3:12 p.m., in the Greys' Caravan  
  
Jean came into my room at about seven and ripped open the curtains, yellow sunlight pouring into the room.  
"Up, Rogue," she commented, snatching the covers off of me. I looked at her, dazed.   
"Why?"   
"Why?!" she asked, as if my question was incredulous. "Because you've been in bed all yesterday. THAT'S why!"  
"But I have a broken arm," I whined, showing her my cast. "And let's not forget it's all_your_fault."  
"I'm making it up today," she reasoned, taking the polka dot navy blue tube top dress from the closet. I stared at it miffed.  
"Where are we going?" I asked, knowing the dress was set for a special occasion. Jean smiled.  
"My parents are holding a breakfast brunch up in Churchill Lounge. Just for the six of us. So get dressed. Remy's already waiting at the restaurant."  
So I obeyed and we rode the Caravan up to the Lounge. I don't think many have seen how the Lounge really looks like, but I know that when I entered, it was like rushing into a crowded ballroom. I mean, it's the kind of restaurant where they'd set several pieces of silverware and four cups just for one course. And then they'd take all that away and bring you even more dinnerware.  
I was pretty exhausted because after all, I DID have a broken arm. But Kurt helped me with the silverware and I drank his share of wine. It was even from then on.  
"Oh, Rogue," Jean said, over her lobster since it was a brunch, "I forgot to mention this. Since today is our last full day here, Remy and I will be heading over to Glass Tavern after brunch. You and Kurt want to join?"  
"What exactly iz Glass Tavern?" asked Kurt, who promptly told me about yesterday's activities. Remy, he, and Mr. Grey had went golfing. For once, I was happy I could get dismissed from such a routine. Jean smiled, reaching for Remy's hand.  
"They sell dinnerware - you know, plates and stuff," I commented. Jean frowned at my explanation. Then I said in a snotty voice, "Something else I forgot to mention?"  
"No," she shrugged, asking a waiter to take away her untouched lobster, "nothing at all."  
"And tomorrow?" Mr. Grey asked her. She looked at him, and sighing, turned back to me.  
"Dad and mom want to take you back to Vermont Stables. The trainer said you and Wilder -was it?- made a connection."  
"Connection?" That was such a perfect lie. If I didn't know better, I'd say the trainer was only wanting another visit to pickpocket the Greys' money.   
Oh, we're outside Glass Tavern. Better go before Jean screams at me.  
  
8:17 p.m., guest room  
  
Kurt took my arm as we were led into the compact room. Plates and dishes lined the walls and glasses filled the interior. I immediately shuddered at what it would look like if Tabitha had gone on one of her hyper mood swings and decided to bomb the place with her explosives.  
The store clerk asked who were the couples, and Jean called that she and Remy were together. And then I piped, "We are too," motioning to Kurt and then me. A surprised Jean and snickering Remy led the clan as we brushed past the silverware and into the room where they kept thousands of glasses. Almost immediately, Jean started roaming, glancing around and biting her lip at the prices. The store clerk then approached Kurt and me and asked when was the wedding date.   
"June 8," Kurt said, obviously thrilled at the game, "We were planning on getting married at midnight."  
"On a beach," I said, holding back a giggle.  
"Oh and don't forget ze black magic witch doctor will marry us," Kurt cried, and I couldn't contain myself. The store clerk was really buying it though.  
"A black magic witch doctor?" she asked, clutching her clipboard, "For what?"  
"Something about evil spirits lurking at the dead of night," I explained. "And after the ceremony, we're getting free voodoo dolls so when we're mad at each other, we can poke holes into our mini-mes."  
"I really didn't wanna get married, you know?" Kurt said, shrugging. I smirked as the clerk rose an eyebrow. "But I want ze voodoo doll, man! I heard it's good for ze trees!"  
I guess we freaked her out, because she moved to Jean and never returned to us again.  
Remy was also listening, because when we loaded the Caravan, he mentioned, "Jean, I t'ink we should have a black magic witch doctor do our ceremony."  
And she gave him hell the rest of the way.  
  
March 13, 2003, 7:12 p.m. at the terminal to Bayville  
  
We arrived at Vermont Stables at about noon so we could catch our plane at seven. Remy wore his jeans and blue contact lenses while Jean dressed herself in a chiffon dress and Easter hat. I managed to pull on a green dress and my black boots, hopefully making Jean not want me ride since she considered my boots the next best thing to ugly.   
But she did anyway.  
"Rogue," she said, as Wilder came out. Wilder is a brown horse with a brilliant black mane, and the strongest legs that a horse can have. Well, with the knowledge that I have of the animal, I think that to be pretty strong.  
"Domingo will help you on the horse." Domingo was the stable buck.  
"And you?" I asked, wondering if this was a chance to break my other arm. She shook her head.  
"Kurt seems to have slipped from our company. I'm going to see where he's gone off to. My parents are by the stable if you need anything." Then, she was gone. Huffing, I pushed the bucker away and pulled myself up with my good arm, intending to make it just fine over Wilder's back. But just as my body sat on the animal, I couldn't get my leg over the other side.   
Talk about disgruntling.  
So, instead of Domingo, Remy came over and helped me to sit up properly on the horse. He seated himself behind me, holding on to the reigns. Looking over, I asked why he wasn't coming down. His reply was a single smirk.  
"Domingo, I t'ink I'll stay here. Don bother taking Bittersweet out," he ordered, and with a single pull of the reigns, Wilder started walking out of the stable. Then, swat! and Wilder shot out like a bullet from a gun. I think I would've fell off again of Remy wasn't behind me; he rode the horse like some professional I never knew. Then when we were clear of the stable, Wilder slowed down and came to a steady walk. Remy, all the while, was silent in his thinking.   
So I spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "Something I need to know?" He looked at me, and I heard him growl under his breath.  
"Can't a guy take some time off from being someone he ain't?"  
I saw his point and he smiled because of it. The sun was hiding behind the clouds by now and the air was crisp with tangerine flowers blooming in the frontier. I never thought Connecticut to be this western.  
"Is this about Jean?" His grip over the reigns tightened. Wilder's walk came to an awkward halt.  
"I actually was hopin' we wouldn talk about 'er," he murmured, getting down from the steed and taking me with him. The dust was blowing around our feet and we watched as the sun tried to peak behind the clouds. "So you and Kurt having any post-weddin' plans?"  
I smirked at the playful question. "Yeah- we were thinking of killing about ten cows and sacrificing them to some god."Remy laughed hearty-some as his gloved hands came around my casted arm.  
"Always t'ought you'd think o' something t' get out o' the weddin'." Goosebumps burst from underneath the cast; I shivered. "Does it hurt?"  
"Naw," I said, blowing it off like I broke my arm all the time. I saw his smile and shoulders relaxed.  
"Rogue," he said, so seriously I felt my heart catch in my throat. "It ain't like I should say anyt'in' but Jean...she's...well, she's been...um...changin' me. It ain't like I don love her, but den again, I don like how she's playing some kind o' game I don even know de rules t'." He sighed, and I suddenly took hold of his hand against my gloved fingers. Fake blue eyes met mine and I knew what he was talking about.  
"She wants everything perfect," I said, trying not to sound biased as to what I usually thought about the girl. "She's...like that." Remy bit his lip and I gripped his hand tighter. His head came back to face me. "But then again, I'm just saying that sometimes, it's better to rethink than to regret," I said, finding my words harsh. Remy nodded, taking his hand from mine and placing me back on Wilder.  
"Sure, Rogue. Sure," he mumbled, and then made Wilder race back to the stables. It wasn't until he jumped off the horse and met Jean in fitful hug, that I knew I had said the wrong thing. When we said our good-byes and hugged and kissed the Greys, walking up the terminal steps, I felt Kurt take hold of my skirt and pull me back to meet him.  
"Something wrong?" he asked, concerned. I gave him an awkward look of disappointment and said, "He loves her." Kurt looked at me with fiery eyes of golden mistrust and gave me his bought bag of potato chips.  
That simply meant he understood.   
  
March 14, 2003 2:12 a.m.  
  
John called. Our conversation went as follows:  
"Rogue?"  
"John. Good morning to you too."  
"How was your trip back?"  
"Good."  
"Anything...happen?"  
"No?"  
"Anything with Remy?"  
"Nothing."  
"Anything you want to talk about?"  
"No really."  
"Are you okay?"   
"No. Why the questions?"   
"You're not always this way."   
"Well, the trip was okay. But Remy--" Pause.  
An impatient, "Well?"  
"Well, he's..[sigh]..certainly blind."  
"Blind?"  
"To not see who really loves him."  
Silence. "Oh."   
"Oh? What were you expecting?"  
"Nothing. But--"  
"But what?"  
"But haven't you ever tried to even consider...consider..."  
"Consider?! Speak, John!"  
"Haven't you ever tried to even consider that maybe Remy's not the only one blind?"  
Then he hung up. What does he mean by that?! I must ask Kitty later.  
Or maybe it's because I really am dense.   
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
*Good on ya: Australian Slang for Good Job  
Thirty-one days until the wedding... 


	18. Blatant Secrets

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Author's Note: This chapter is sappy and happy! Oh, I actually did myself a favor and went on the Kids' WB site. X-Men: Evo's going to be on the last week of April, so stay tuned! Sad stuff also in this chapter. Read and you'll know why.  
Dedication: To Goldylokz. I used your Karaoke idea. Because, as predicted, I had writer's block. Thanks!   
Chapter Eighteen: Blatant Secrets  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
March 16, 2003 5:12 p.m., on the rec room's couch  
  
It's weird how things just fall into place without any real realization to begin with. For example, today, I opened the door to my shared room and found John sitting on my bed. He wore that simple smile that I swore he copied from Remy and blatantly gripped a tense vibe around him.   
I shuddered.  
"G'day, Rogue," he greeted, but I couldn't think of anything else to say except, "What are doing here?"  
He frowned, obviously expecting something more polite. "Kitty let me in," he explained, taking out his lighter. Lighting a flame, he played through the fire, making it into a horse, a dog, a giraffe. A grin crossed his face as I came over and sat next to him.   
"Of course," he said further, "I would've waited downstairs, but Kitty insisted on making me stay here." Annoyed, I blew out his flame and he stared, as if amazed.  
"What are you doing here," I said again, not intending it as a question anymore. John noticed and flipped the lighter through his fingers.   
"I was wonderin' if yah wanted to come down tah dah Pub on Friday," he said, and I was about to protest, but he continued, "it's a special Karaoke night at dah bar an' I was wond'rin' if yah liked tah come." I looked at him, wondering what he was up to. He read my face and frowned. "You busy Friday?"  
"I have to make sure," I said slowly, knowing I wasn't. "But if not, I'll let you know." He placed the lighter back in his pocket and got up to go, but turned back to me.  
"I'll be awaitn' yah call then, love," he said sweetly and with a click of the door, he was gone.   
I wonder what he could want now.   
  
March 17, 2003 8:34 p.m.  
  
Jean says I need to write a small greeting towards the newlyweds. But when Jean says a "small" greeting she means, a long, vivid, beautifully composed piece dedicated to -her-. Think eulogy to the undead.   
She told me this two hours ago, and I am -stumped-. Seriously, I haven't thought of anything this hard since the last term paper. Which wasn't much to think about, even if it was about WWII.  
And with the rate I'm going, I'm lucky if I even get close to finishing this stupid speech.  
  
March 18, 2003   
  
Today, Jean caught me going up the stairs, heading for my room.  
She looked ebullient. And I felt like crap.  
"Rogue!" she called. I stopped, cringed at her shrill voice, and slowly turned around. She was wearing a white-striped pale blue shirt and a pelted gray skirt. So homely, I thought, quickly hoping she hadn't heard. Taking quick strides to meet me, she beamed at my confusion.  
"Guess what," she said, her voice sugary. I immediately frowned.   
"I'm not doing it," I said, and continued my way back to my room. Jean pursued, much to my contempt.  
"But you don't even know what it's about!" I put a hand on the knob, but Jean blocked the doorway with her arm. "Hear me out, Rogue. I mean..."  
"You mean it's something that you need for your wedding," I spat. She licked her lips and continued.  
"Well, not really," she said, and I removed her arm from its place.  
"I'm not doing it," I repeated. Turning the knob, she stopped me from entering.  
"Wilder's coming to the Bayville Derby in two days. He's competing for some sort of gold. But he's been a little...depressed since our departure and the bucker thinks it's because you're not there anymore." I looked at her, remembering. Touching my broken arm, I nodded.  
"Glad that was over," I murmured. Continuing into my room, she spoke up again.  
"It's one day, Rogue. Just go and wish him luck."   
"Why do you want -me-?" Jean looked appalled.  
"It's not me, Rogue. I'm just concerned about the horse."  
"Jean," I said, taking off my Doc Martens, "when you care about a horse, I'll be with John." Realizing what I had just said, I clamped a hand on my mouth. Jean smugly sought this as blackmail.  
"John?" she asked, shyly. Coming in, she sat down on Kitty's bed and grinned. "Do you -like- him?" I gaped at her, obviously thrown off track. And the worse part was it was because of my big mouth.  
"No, not like that," I said, but she was already taunting me about it. So I finally said I'd go. "But if you'd keep what I said away from everyone." She agreed on the compromise, and got up to leave. After walking out the door frame, she abruptly turned and said, "See you on Thursday." And was gone.  
So there you have it. Me and my big, grotesque mouth. Excuse me while I smack my head against the wall in distress.  
  
March 19, 2003  
  
Jean let me borrow her mauve dress and matching hat and shoes for tomorrow's race. But she also mentioned that her parents were attending and that I would need to avoid them in any case possible, since she wouldn't be there to critic on my character. And who better to distract me than Kurt?  
But it turns out Kurt can't go--he's got a date with that Amanda chick. So, I've asked Kitty, Evan, Jubes, even Remy, and they all said they were busy tomorrow.  
I could take Piotr, but then it'd be weird since we haven't talked in a while, or St. John, but he's "in love with me" according to Kitty whose had no difficulty getting that point across, and it'd be even weirder, or even Logan, but he's always busy, either with his bike or Ororo.  
Therefore, that leaves narrowly nobody.  
  
March 20, 2003  
  
I took Sam with me. I mean, when you're desperate for a date, you don't bring Jaime (or at least I don't) in fear that he'd wear one of his famous polka dot bow ties that he passes as "fancy". Sam, at least, was free and owned a decent tux that I wouldn't have any beef with him being seen in. Therefore, I let him come along.  
We arrived at 2:00 p.m., thirty minutes before the races would start. We were met by Jean's parents who looked more distressed than when they had met Remy for the first time.  
"Rogue!" called Mrs. Grey running and gathering me in a hug, "It's just so terrible. Wilder will simply not race! We actually have to -drag- him to the stables where he collapsed." I glanced sideways at her and said I'd go see the horse and entered the stables where he was staying. Sam, who was quiet the whole trip there, followed me in. Wilder was standing by his stable, neighing. I greeted him and introduced Sam, stating he was a friend. After a bit of petting, Sam spoke up.  
"Ah think he lahkes you." I shifted my eyes to him and smirked.  
"You some kind of horse whisperer, Guthrie?" I asked, my gloved hands coming around Wilder's nose. Sam shrugged at my question and stood there, silent.  
"Yah think," he said, sullenly, "that when people see things, they tend ta judge completely off guahrd?" Again, I looked at him with curiosity.  
"Striking question," I murmured, suddenly remember what John had told me.   
~Maybe Remy's not the only one blind.~  
I shuddered and turned back to the Southern. "Why ya ask?" It was met with a shrug. I nodded, suddenly hearing voices fill the stables.  
"But you have to race Wilder!" shouted a voice, that sounded like Mr. Grey's. Sam and I exchanged glances.  
"I already -told- you, that damn horse ain't letting no one ride it. It better stay here, for the time being..."   
"You're not telling me I paid five grand just to move this horse over here and not race! Robertson, I'm paying you hoards of money..."  
"Well, I don't care," the racer said. "You can take your money back. That horse is better off staying here and not go out and humiliate all of us." The voices stopped. When I turned back to Sam, he had his eyes on Wilder. Awkwardly, I glanced at my watch.  
"Better get going, Guthrie," I said, taking his sleeve. "The races will start soon."  
"What 'bout Wilder, miss? What 'bout him?" I looked at him, then to the horse, and back again. I frowned, digressing.   
"C'mon."  
***  
I wasn't really expecting much afterwards, knowing Jean would get the disappointing news sooner or later. So when the announcer came on about Wilder not going to compete, I couldn't help but wonder about her parents. I guess this was why she made me come - to bring Wilder back to the horse he once was. Turning to Sam, I was about to ask about what he meant when he mentioned about judging people.  
That was when I found he wasn't sitting next to me after all.  
A gun shot through the air and the horses were off. In unison, everyone lifted binoculars to their eyes to watch the horses dash madly toward the finish line.   
And that's when I saw Wilder. And Sam.  
Gasps peeled through the crowd as Sam, clad in riding boots and headgear, and Wilder leaped over the fence and galloped further. In twenty seconds flat, Wilder had past Sugarcane and Maximum. Then Cloudy, Castillo, and Rampart. Neck and neck to Ebenezer and suddenly--Wilder had won! A gracious wallop rang throughout the spectators as the announcer read Wilder's name and the anonymous rider who talked the horse back into the race. Twenty grand was looted and a beautiful mounting trophy was for Sam. Wilder only preferred to stay with him a while longer and then it was back to the stables with Sam's trustful steed.  
So there you have it. Sam, now hero, professional horse racer, and horse whisperer got what he deserved. And I let what anyone else would've let him do.  
Drive me home.   
  
March 21, 2003   
  
I haven't forgotten about John. I know it's Friday, I know it's far from when I should've called him. I know, I know, I know. But the thing is, I don't want to go. I really don't. Karaoke is not my thing, if you know what I mean. Look at it this way, I'm no Jimmy Hendrix, but I ain't any Britney Spears also. Therefore, I resent the fact that John wants Karaoke.   
For crying out loud, KARAOKE.  
  
Greeting Attempt #1:  
I've been the sucker for love these past few months. Seen myself blind but never before I could catch myself from falling flat on my face. So this is kind of like a slap to my face, getting up here and addressing the "married couple". You don't even look good together. You think that's harsh? I could do worse. I could do far worse, more angst, more drama, than that of when you wake up in the morning and find yourself less than perfect, preppy Jean. And you, Remy. Think you could design yourself a hoeless life--boy, are you in for a surprise. Commitment is hard, and the truth is harsh. But then again, you all knew this was a mistake, right?  
  
March 22, 2003 12:32 a.m.   
  
When I went to object to Jean's making me try at a greeting, I peeked into her room and found Remy sitting on the floor, and Jean watching the T.V. on the bed. I was about to break up the moment, until I heard Remy as her what happened to the old times.   
"Y' remember," he asked, his fingers shaking with anxiety for a cig, "when we used t' sit up late at night, tryin' t' study fo' biology an' order pizza before goin' t' bed?" Jean sighed, patted his shoulder with a worried hand. "I miss dose."  
"Remy, that was before we turned mature."  
"Mature? Y' t'ink orderin' a dress an' cake is -mature-?" She frowned at his comment. Sliding her arms around his neck, she rested her head on his shoulder.  
"I swear, when this is all over, there'll still be the pizza and biology tests. Okay?" He nodded, and she kissed his cheek. Turning away from the scene, I decided maybe I wanted to see John after all. But before I could leave, Jean suddenly called me in. I guess she heard my head or something, because she was gazing at me peculiarly.   
"Rogue," she mumbled, her arms still around Remy, "you going out?"  
"I guess, though I don't think it's any of your business." Remy turned his head to me, his eyes narrowing.   
"Where?" He asked simply. I shrugged.  
"To Bill's Pub." Jean laughed, and I frowned at her. "Something funny?"  
"Karaoke night, Rogue?" she chuckled, swaying Remy in her arms, "I can't really see you enter a karaoke bar. What's the special occasion?"  
I glanced at Remy, who squirmed uneasily in his fiancé's arms. Shrugging again, I spat, "I'm meeting John."   
Jean gave me a sweet smile. "I see," she said, waving her hand. "Have fun. And be back before eleven." She chortled as I glared at her. "I'm just joking, sweetie." Rolling my eyes, I scuffled away, not intending to stay any longer.  
  
***  
He was sitting in a booth when I entered. Dressed in a teal shirt and corduroys, he couldn't have looked any more casual. People stared at my black attire as I wrenched my way through, avoiding any contact of the skin and the eyes that followed as I seated myself across from my awaiting friend. He beamed, a grin playing on his face.   
"I didn't think you'd show up, Sheila," he smiled. I forced my own grin and ordered a soda for the night.   
"Sorry I didn't call. Jean made me do her dirty work again." John frowned, drumming his fingers on the table.   
"You shouldn't falter for dat, love," he cooed. I shrugged the third time that night and he suddenly reached over and held my gloved hand. "You're so much stronger dan dat."  
Not when you're in love with a person who's in love with someone else, I dared to not say aloud. Pulling my hand away from his grasp, I shuddered against the chair. John frowned and leaned back. The waitress came back with my soda and John pushed his beer to his lips. Suddenly, he got up and flung an arm in front of me.   
"Come with me," he whispered, his voice mysterious and seductive. I couldn't help but smile. Letting him lead me through the crowd, he took the mic and selected a song from the collection before him. Then he got up and started singing "Tired of Sex" by Weezer. Belting out the lyrics, he finished and the crowd gave a wallop of a shout and an applause rose through the room. Rejoining my side, he suddenly said into the mic, "Blokes and Sheilas, please give a warm and peasing welcome to the wonderful, the beautiful, Miss Rogue!"   
And I choked on my soda. The crowd, of course drunk with beer, gave me the welcome while John handed me the microphone and there I stood, staring at the many stoned faces that I couldn't ever get used to seeing. The song came on and I found myself stuttering the words while staring at the screen and starting to sing,  
  
"I know I'm kinda strange, to you sometimes  
Don't always say, what's on my mind,  
You know that I've been hurt, by some guy  
But I don't wanna mess up this time..."   
  
Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure walk over to our table and sit down.   
  
"And I really really really care   
And I really really really want you   
And I think I'm kinda scared   
Cos I don't want to lose you   
If you really really really care   
Then maybe you can hang through   
I hope you understand   
It's nothing to you."  
I had been watching John, and I saw his eyes narrow. Bear with me, I pleaded, the words scrolling across the screen:  
  
"My heart's at a low   
I'm so much to manage   
I think you should know that   
I've been damaged   
I'm falling in love   
There's one disadvantage   
I think you should know that I've been damaged."  
Staring now, I could see the person at our table had ordered a beer. John tried not to notice.  
  
"I might look through your stuff, for what I don't wanna find   
Or I might just set you up, to see if you're all mine   
I'm a little paranoid, from what I've been through   
Don't know what you got yourself into..."   
Suddenly, John started walking over to our table, and I quickly gave the microphone to the nearest drunkard before running after the angered Aussie. He halted in front of the beer drinking man, crooning evil and threatening until he suddenly wheeled back and I took a good look at the man...  
"Remy." I saw John's face break into a solid frown.   
"You were expectin' another?" he asked, casually, ignoring John's anger. I tried to do so myself.  
"What are you doing here?" I asked him. Remy took another sip of his beer and smiled.  
"Heard you'd be here. Think John was going to have all the fun?" John suddenly grabbed the drink from Remy's hands.  
"I wanna betta explanation, Cajun," he spat, and I took a step back. Remy glanced at him and the smile disappeared from his lips.  
"I want t' speak w' Rogue." Looking at him, I could see under his glasses that he wore no contacts. I gulped, the sound still ringing in my ears as I write this.   
"M-Me?" I asked. Standing up, Remy was suddenly blocked by John, who had come between us. Annoyed, Remy drew back his breath.   
"I didn't think I'd have to have permission from y' to' talk w' someone," he said. John still did not move.   
"Dam--," he started, but I came in between them.   
"It's all right, John," I said, taking his arm, "it ain't like he can do anything to me." The Pyro stared at me, then, defeated, reluctantly let me aside. I strode off, Remy hot on my heels. As the door was swung open, I could feel the post-winter weather seep through my jacket. Shivering some, I turned to the thief.  
"What are you doing here? I thought you and Jean wanted some alone time." Remy snorted out a laugh.  
"Alone time? Jean and I always do that. It ain't anything new."  
"And the pizza and biology tests?" I could see the blush come across his face.  
"Thet was before we were...were..." he cut himself off. Following his gaze, I saw John standing by the door, eyes narrowed and an angered stare penetrating both of us. Then, he had walked away with no other remark or retorting.  
"I see I've disrupted too much," Remy murmured. I heard this and shook my head.  
"John's just been acting up lately. Kitty says he likes me..." Remy looked at me quickly.  
"Likes you?" It annoyed me how disbelieved he was.  
"I guess." He gave me a weird look and I sighed. "I'm not denying anything yet."  
"Do you like him?" Remy asked, obviously wanting an answer. I shrugged.  
"No." It was the truth and it seemed as if Remy relaxed at this. "He's a bit angry. With a lot of things. Lately." Remy nodded, like he knew.   
Remy offered to drive me home and we stopped by the Dairy Queen and ordered ice cream. We didn't talk much, but Remy did walk me back to my room where I've been awake for the past hour or so.   
  
March 24, 2003  
  
Attempt #2  
Well, it's time to talk of many things concerning this marriage. Jean has nothing old, everything new, Hell would freeze over if she had something borrowed, and hardly anything except Remy's fake eyes that are blue.   
Not that you needed to know that.  
I'm not a fan of weddings. You may say that this wedding was a big flop since I'm in it. I just might agree with you on the first part, but this is not entirely my fault. I only take the blame for letting it happen.  
You see, several things have happened as a result to this planned marriage. First, there was Dunst who just passed out after unsuccessfully making everyone line up in a straight line. Then, there was Floof who just happens to be gay, was pushed to the side and knocked over in his own shop. And the accordion man playing ever Tuesday and Thursday down by the bridge at Clairemont's is filing a couple of lawsuits after Remy. And we thought they were in good terms because he did accompany Remy to make a very "romantic" proposal.  
So, my dearies, you see that now is not a time to be saying these negative things. I mean, we all wanted it to be a movie-esque wedding with big white flowers, a dress stretching your wallet across the United States, a beautiful choir and those flower girls in puffy dresses that make your eyes sore when they saunter down the aisle. Yes, that's what we wanted, and then we _got_this. And there you have it, folks. You both are screwed.  
  
March 25, 2003  
  
Piotr called today. I answered, and though he wanted to talk to Kitty, invited me over to Magneto's.   
I wonder what he could want.  
  
5:43 p.m.  
  
Just came back from Danlie's. Jean had wanted to have Piotr's suit refitted, but she couldn't make it. Piotr said that Kitty or I'd come over to substitute.  
When I got there, Magneto had opened the door. With a raised eyebrow instead of another one of his useless comments, he let me into the hall where Piotr was standing, waiting for me. We rode in the X-Jeep to Danlie's, got the suits, and I followed him to the back where he took off his own jacket. Something hit the floor. Piotr hurriedly dropped to the ground, his hand sliding over it. Getting up, I looked at him wondering as he pocketed the thing. I said nothing as he took a suit off the rack and went into the dressing room.  
"So how you've been, Petey? Haven't seen you in a long time," I said, staring at my nails. Jean had also said that she wanted to have my fingers done afterwards. I had protested, but then, looking at them, it seemed to make sense why she suggested such.  
"Well, Rogue. I have been well." I nodded my head, as if approving his English and heard the door creak open. Piotr strode out, his jacket over a shoulder, as a model would. I smirked, my defenses down.  
"What do you think?" he asked me. I laughed as he mimicked John, throwing back his head and giving everyone a cock-eyed glare.   
"Swell," I approved. He smiled, looking relaxed. Putting down his jacket, he buckled his belt and looked at the mirror. Thinking it was a good time to to ask questions, I said, "So, why'd you want to make me come?"   
He shrugged, obviously hiding something. "To see my good friend again." His fingers traveled to his pocket. I rose an eyebrow, wondering.  
"Whatca got there, Petey? Some eye candy?" He, startled, glanced up and a blush crossed his chiseled face.  
"Eye candy?" he asked, not familiar with the term. I saw this as a chance to redeem myself.  
"Can I see it?" I asked. He looked at me quickly; the blush got pinker.  
"I'm not sure." I frowned, coming closer.  
"Aw c'mon, Petey, it ain't like I'm gonna tell nobody."   
"Anybody," he said. I looked at him, unsure.  
"Okay, anybody." I held up my hands. "I won't tell a soul. My lips are sealed." Piotr, relaxing, slowly pulled out a velvet box. I immediately recognized it as Remy's ring to Jean.  
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.  
"Remy told me to hold it. He'd let Kurt, but he can't really trust him," he explained, trying to give it to me. As if it were something lethal, I pushed his hand back.  
"Oh, I already saw that," I said, trying to hide my hurt. But I had forgotten that you can't really hide anything from Piotr.   
"I am giving it back today," he said, "leaving it up in Remy's room so he can get it polished or shiny or something." I almost didn't hear his words. Knowing my discomfort, he changed the subject while pocketing the ring. "I saw John the other night. He looked angered." At this, I nodded.  
"Yeah--he invited me to a Karaoke bar." I saw Piotr cringed. I smiled. "Exactly how I felt. And so I go and he sings and he makes me sing, and then Remy comes..."  
"Remy?!" Piotr stifled a small laugh. "What a night."  
"What do you mean, 'what a night'?" Piotr shrugged.  
"I mean, John has means on seeing you, but Remy has the nerve to see to you as well. That, I consider, is what a night." I grinned at the possibility of Remy wanting to see me. But I knew it was only too good to be true and switched myself back to reality.  
"So John gets all upset and Remy drives me home. End of story." Piotr nodded, and went back into the changing rooms before purchasing the suit.  
"I'm really glad we had a chance to talk," I said, and Piotr nodded. We drove back and while walking to Magneto's Dome I dared to ask, "So, have you talked to Kitty?" Piotr surprisingly grinned.   
"I am guessing she never told you," he said simply. I cocked my head at him, wondering.  
"Tell me what?" His grin was bursting with ebullience.   
"We are together." Then, he walked inside the dome, leaving me to digress by myself. I've been back for about a week now. Maybe even more. And she NEVER TOLD ME?!   
I'm telling you, I miss too much when I'm gone.  
  
March 26, 2003  
  
Kitty says that they've been together for three days, stating that she couldn't stay with Lance when her love belonged, like, somewhere else, and she never told me because, like, I never asked.  
Talk about a soap opera.  
  
March 27, 2003  
  
I have gone too far again. Sometimes, my conscience mocks me, but now it's getting easier and easier as to not getting caught and harder and harder to not feel bad about it.   
I took the ring. I mean, Jean pissed me off, so I had to! Hear me out, I have a reason you know.  
So Jean holds another one of her prissy rehearsals, and this had the priest and everything, which explains why everyone was on their very best behavior.   
That is, until Jean told me that she wanted the speech thingy. You all know I hadn't done it yet, so what was I supposed to turn in? I just retorted that this isn't preschool, and she was all, that's right, it's my wedding and I expect things to be done proper and on time. So we go on and gab and gurgle at each other, until Jean suddenly pushes me, and I fall off a step.   
Which takes the fight to a whole other level.  
We were then pulling at each other's hair and pushing each other, until finally the priest comes in, and says "Stop it you two! We're in the house of God!" And I take an unintentional swig with my broken arm at him, and bam! He's out like a light bulb [Though I can't seem to see any reason for it. It WAS, after all, my BROKEN arm].   
The paramedics come once more, we are then dubbed "The Wrecked Wedding People," Jean screams and then humiliates me in front of everyone, saying I'm an irresponsible low-life, with no higher depth than a mere ounce of respect for her or Remy. I could've yelled back, but I'm limited on big words and just went up to my room. Flinging myself on my bed, I plotted revenge.  
Sweet, sweet, sweet revenge I would take on that preppy pushover, and make her the one hurt this time. But how? And with what? So, after much thought, I concluded what could be better than taking the ring?  
It wasn't that hard either. Piotr just came in and dropped it on Remy's desk, where it sat, untouched, for a day. And now it's in my hands, twirling in its velvet box.   
So HA. Let this be a lesson to you Jean: never underestimate the Rogue.  
  
March 28, 2003 10:30 a.m.  
  
Big problems have occurred as a result to my taking the ring:  
  
1.) Remy can't find it.   
2.) Jean doesn't even know I have it, or that Remy even has another ring to give her.  
3.) Remy's blaming Piotr.  
4.) I'm guilty.  
  
This can NOT get any worse.  
  
2:12 p.m.  
  
You know in the movies, some person always says, this cannot get any worse and something always blows up or it rains? Well, that happened. I mean, nothing blew up, and it didn't rained, but it's just as bad.  
I LOST THE RING!!!  
It shameful, I know. I just heard Remy downstairs, yelling that he was gonna get Piotr good for doing this to him, and I just grabbed the box, shouted, "THIS is all your fault!" and flung it at the wall.  
Only, it didn't hit the wall. Oh, no, it just HAD to bounce off the sliding glass door and tumble off the balcony's railing. As a result for my impudent behavior, I have been forcing myself to trudge in snow up to my ankles while cursing my luck. And I STILL haven't found it.   
Why does everything always amount to something like THIS?!!!  
  
March 29, 2003  
  
I am officially embarrassed. The ring was up in a tree, stuck between entwined branches. And how did I find such out? Well, I was sitting on my balcony railing, swearing and crying about this mishap, and then suddenly, I saw a bird fly out of nowhere and land on the branch which also held the box!   
Seeing my luck change, I grabbed my coat and climbed the tree all the way up to the third to tallest branch [which, as you may already guess] was where the ring was. But as I was sliding, ready to get the ring, I heard a voice from below me shout, "What are you doing up there, Rogue?" Startled, I almost fell as I looked to see who it was.  
Remy.   
So my luck hadn't changed after all.  
"Go away!" I shouted back, my arms around the bark. Remy disobeyed, and instead wandered underneath me.   
"What are y' doin' up dere? I don believe dere is any honey in thet tree." Frowning, I inched towards the ring.  
"If you're implying that I'm a little black rain cloud, you are mistaken, mister. I'm--" 3 feet away from the ring; I reached further.   
"--quite--"  
2 feet.   
"--not!" My gloved fingers wrapped around the box. It was mine! I had the ring! I had the--  
There was a violent --CRACK-- underneath me, and I went   
F  
A  
L  
L  
I  
N  
G down, crashing into branches, screaming inaudible curses since dead leaves brushed my mouth, my arms flapping wildly to every side, trying to grab everything and anything but to no avail.  
Then, when I was sure I was gonna die, something broke my fall. It wasn't the tree [though I would've preferred it], but Remy, who laid, with me awkwardly on his back.   
I was alive. Remy was my savior once more. I laid there, trying to get my heart back to pace, as Remy stifled weak laughter from underneath me. Trying to get up, he grabbed my arm and flung me into the snow, the ring flying out of my hand. Rushing to recover the ring, I jumped for it and landed hard on my side. The ring was still mine. Remy hadn't moved since, and I was afraid I had broken his back. Crawling back to him, I looked at my fallen deliverer from death and grinned.  
"Are you okay?" I asked, shyly. He glanced at me, his eyes fluttering open. He wore no blue contacts, and the scarlet in his eye shone violently against the white snow.  
"I saved y'." He closed his eyes again. Fearing the worst, I pocketed the ring and laced my hands around his neck, my body over his. Suddenly, his arms shot up around my torso and his fingers wildly played at my ribs. Laughing, I pushed him away, but he didn't stop. Romping fiercely in the snow, he wouldn't let me go, but was careful with my broken arm. As he stamped me against the snow, he suddenly collapsed against me, lying there like he was tired. His breathing was rapid, but so was mine, so we took the moment to regain our breath and composure. Taking a gloved hand to my face, he brushed away my bangs and grinned as if he had made a masterpiece of moving my hair.  
"What were y' doin' up dere, cherie? Y' could got y'self killed," he murmured, huskily. I rolled over to my side, my hand slipping in my pocket. The ring was still there. In all our frolicking, the ring was still there. Remy's rough, but he sure can be gentle. "Don y' ever not t'ink 'bout anyone but y'self?" I pushed him away at this and rolled to my feet.   
"I'm going now," I told him, as if he were to be informed, "and I don't expect you to follow me." The ring was still there as I reluctantly passed Remy, who was still lying there, on the snow. I've returned the ring, and though I hate it for all I've gone through--it seems it has also been worth almost killing myself over.  
  
March 30, 2003  
  
Attempt #3: I would love to wish you both the best of luck for the future. Just as long as I'm not in it.  
  
There. I've done it. Not bad, eh? Now, let's just see if I can pull this one off without actually crying through it.  
  
March 31, 2003  
  
THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. NO, NO, NO. You think after I get my feelings straightened out, I have something blown in my face with a leaf blower that could've killed me twice over.  
JOHN LOVES ME.   
It kills me just to write that. Seriously, after all I've been through. Kitty was right. Kitty was freaking' right all along. This just reminds me of Ritzy as she thought of me liking Remy.  
But that was different. That was when I was confused. That was when I was paying attention. This whole time, John loved me and he confessed to it. Something I never NOTICED.  
I_AM_SAD.  
Jean's parents invited the Court to a brunch at the Marriott Hotel where they were staying. The Marriott is quite classy at Bayville, so after being served all sorts of food, everyone just kind of disperses and John leads me to the back where there's a waterfall and a garden full of leaves and flowers. I didn't really want to go since walking through leaves while wearing a purple flowered dress since it really isn't my walk in the park. But John said it was important and I needed to go. So I did. And regret it.  
When we were clear out of earshot from the patio, I sat down, commenting on the weird weather we were having lately, and he suddenly gets down on one knee and professes his love for me.   
"Rogue," he states, taking my gloved hand between his, "I've been really mixed up lately, about the wedding, about changes, about you." I knew this was going in the wrong direction, but I didn't stop John. "And I've finally realized that this whole time I've been trying to do myself a favor and win your heart.  
But it seemed whenever I tried to get close you'd push me farther away. So I had to tell you now, before I collapse from self-delusions. I love you, Rogue. Ever since I saw you at Danlie's, you've captured my heart." [Talk about cheesy.] "And I want to know if you'll return such love to me."  
I frowned. I mean, what else could I do? He was doing this whole Laurie from Little Women kind of thing, and I wasn't falling for it. I understood his heart, and I saw it only led to trouble. I just don't understand why.   
"I know how you love Remy," he continued, "and I know you've lost yourself completely in oblivion dealing with the bloke." His hand held mine tighter. I squirmed uneasily, but he didn't notice. "But reconsider..." he kissed the glove on my hand. This startled me and I withdrew my hand from his grasp.  
No, I thought to myself, glaring at his face. "No," I said aloud. John looked at me as if surprised.  
"No?" he repeated. I slowly nodded my head.  
"You can't love me! I mean, John!" He fell back off his knee and stared at me.  
"You still love Remy?" I frowned, annoyed.  
"Did you -think- I'd get over him that fast? John, you know I've loved him...I can't stop...and I know it's bad." This wasn't going well.   
"Well, I kinda knew you weren't gonna change yur mind. But I was also kinda hoping you would," he said, getting to his feet. Shuffling a few feet, he suddenly turned back to me, tears in his eyes. "But Rogue," his voice soft and hoarse, "if you ever decide to get over that Cajun, I'll be here. I've always been here for you." And then he was gone. Staring back now, I knew I couldn't have said anything more or did anything to make the situation better.   
I can say no more. 


	19. Countdown to Doomsday

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
By: Ariesque  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
Chapter Nineteen: Countdown to Doomsday  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
April 1, 2003  
  
When Jean came into my shared room, I was sitting on the floor, wondering about John, thinking about his feelings and how truly demeaning I was towards them. The disappointed look on his face stayed imprinted in my brain, causing me to yelp when Jean tapped my shoulder. She, in turn, yelled back, startled.  
"Jean!" I screamed, trying to regain my heart beat, "What are you -doing-??"  
She smiled, holding out a sealed envelope. "Just wanted to come up and invite you to my bachelorette party." Taking the envelope, I ripped open the seal and took out the card. Scanning it with an impervious eye, I looked back at her, wondering.   
"Something wrong, Rogue? You look beaten," she said, her voice low with suspicion. I waved her off.  
"With a stick or a bat?" She studied me, digressing.  
"More like a lead pipe." I whacked her knee with the invitation and she chortled. "But seriously, what's wrong? You look more sullen than you really are." Grumbling, I got up and sat on my bed.   
"Nothing that I need to tell you." She frowned at my resistance and pulled at my sleeve.  
"C'mon, Rogue. It can't be that bad," she crooned. I looked at her and shrugged.  
"I said, it's nothing that I need to tell you." Getting the message, she quickly breathed out and headed toward the door.  
"Fine. Call me on my cell to verify your coming to my party." Then she sniffed and was on her way. Looking back down at the invitation, I read:  
  
You are invited to: Jean's Bachelorette Party  
When: Saturday April 12, 2003  
Where: The Marriott Hotel, in their reserved plaza  
What time: 8:00 p.m. to Midnight  
R.S.V.P.: (125)-527-2314 [Jean's Cell]  
  
Oh, boy. I bet Jean wants me there, but I'm really into refusing right now. Therefore, I'll just have to see.  
  
April 2, 2003   
  
After school, Jean held another wedding rehearsal, and it ran smoothly, though throughout the whole practice, Jean was a bit testy since John hadn't shown up for it. Partially, I believe it's because of me.  
  
April 3, 2003  
  
Today, Jean took us for a final suit up with our dresses at Danlie's. I guess it went okay, except when Jean told us to regroup, Ororo didn't appear with the rest of the bridesmaid. So then, Jean strode back to the fitting rooms and found Ororo struggling to zip her dress's zipper.  
"Ororo?" she asked, coming inside. I had followed, along with Logan, who came to see what was the matter. Ororo, first seeing Jean, tensed immediately. "What's wrong?"  
"It seems," Ororo started, once again trying to zip the dress behind her, "it seems that I have a bit of a difficulty trying to zip this dress." Jean offered to give her a hand and pulled and heaved to no avail. For five minutes this went on, anticipation growing weary on the two as Logan covered his eyes (but whether in shame or amusement, I'm not sure), and finally, Jean gave it a hefty pull and there was a deafening RIP! before Ororo's dress came apart.   
That's when Jean started scolding Ororo and asking what has she been eating all throughout these several months. Before Ororo could answer though, Logan stepped in, and said, "I think you both had enough today. Just get a bigger size, Jean, that's all." He didn't cuss her out, but simply brought Ororo's clothes over to her while Jean exited the dressing rooms, completely baffled.  
"How could she have gained so much weight?" she asked me, a streak of confusion across her face, "she was always so lithe..."   
For once, I had to agree to Jean. And the whole fatherly-Logan was weird too.   
Something is definitely not right here.  
  
April 4, 2003   
  
When I came in after school, I found Piotr sitting on my bed, a box of chocolate across from him, with Kitty digging into her closet.  
"How 'bout this one?" she asked, holding out one of Jean's dresses. When she saw me, she dropped the dress and let out a nervous giggle.  
"Rogue!" A blush crossed her face as she kicked the clothes back in the closet. For the sake of the moment, I crossed my arms across my chest and rose an eyebrow.  
"What's going on in here?" I asked both of them. Piotr cleared his throat and spoke up: "Kitty was trying to show me what she was going to wear to Jean's bachelorette party." I glared at her.  
"You're actually going?" Kitty shrugged, as if she could've cared less.  
"Well, like, everyone is." I looked over at what she had in the closet. Piles of pink and white shirts and skirts covered the ground, and I pouted at the mess.   
"Kitty," I said, shaking my head, "what closet have you been through?!" She put her head down, guiltily. Piotr was about to rise to her defense, but I held up my hand and continued, "Jean has a hoard of gorgeous dresses you haven't encountered!" At this, Kitty, smiled and followed me to Jean's room.   
It was as clean as the rec room. The bed was made, the sheets weren't wrinkled at the ends, the mirror was well wiped from fingerprints (if there had been any), the vanity well kept with a clock and picture of Remy and her at the corner of the desk. I held back a frown as I pointed to the closet. Kitty immediately invaded the space, parting the hangers and staring at the dresses. Taking a particular dress illustrating red roses, she beamed and raced back into our room to change. Piotr was standing by the door, but he didn't walk off after Kitty. Coming into the room, he glanced around and a look of curiosity crossed his face.  
"Jean really is tidy." Then to me, he nodded. "Thank you. Kitty was wondering if she could take another dress."  
"Jean won't even notice," I said, so casually it scared even me. Looking at the picture with Jean and Remy, I sighed, sadly. "It's so close." Piotr once again nodded.  
"I know." Putting a hand on my shoulder, he smiled and went across the hall to where Kitty was calling him. I watched, knowing he knew my infatuation. But like Kurt, he also knew it was more than that. He knew that it hurt me to see Remy with someone so perfect that it made ME look bad. Turning away, I looked back at the picture frame.  
It was turned face-down.   
***  
When I finally came back, Kitty had taken a break from her dressing-up and was sitting next to Piotr, eating the chocolate.   
"Good news," she said. Walking in more, I could see she and Piotr were holding hands, "We both decided that that dress was perfect for such a night."   
"Glad to hear it," I said, toying with my gloves. It was a nervous habit that I developed after the years of wearing them. Every time I get too sentimental, I get a bit nervous with myself and start picking at them. Kitty knew this and smiled.  
"Um, Rogue. We were going out tomorrow night and well, we were wondering if you could come along."   
"As what?" I asked, unsure with the question, "your chaperone?" Kitty and Piotr exchanged glances.  
"Well," Kitty said, putting the chocolates aside. She gestured at them, but I refused. "No. But you're, like, always spending your Saturdays moping around and, like, it isn't healthy." Piotr nodded. Still toying with my gloves, I shrugged.  
"Okay," I said, but pointed a strict finger at them, "but none of that kissing stuff." Piotr laughed, and I was shocked. He never laughs.   
"If you come as our friend," he said, smiling big, "not a chaperone." We shook hands on it and I took a chocolate, satisfied. But, Kitty was right. Saturdays are always vacant on my calendar. This should help me forget my problems - for now.   
  
April 5, 2003   
  
Jean pulled me out of going out with them. And for what? What could possibly be more important than going out on a Friday night?  
"How about my wedding?" she asked me. So she then drove me down to a Beauty Salon and got my hair and nails done.   
And you could guess what color my nails are right now.   
Pink.  
  
April 6, 2003  
  
I am stunned.  
I mean, usually I'd be feeling what has been going on for quite some time, but I never quite noticed until now.   
I am oblivious.   
So when I heard Ororo crying in the bathroom, I knew there was something definitely wrong. Knocking on the door, she stifled a "Logan?" and I answered no. Then there was a gasp, and a harsh, "Rogue?!" Frowning, I held out the towels.  
"Ororo," I called, "I'm just putting in more towels. Xavier said that I should..." The door was flung open, and there stood Ororo dressed in a kimono, her hair wildly pulled back in sticks. I resisted asking her if today she felt like being Asian since she looked really sick.  
"Thanks, hon," she said, taking the towels. Suddenly, she covered her mouth and rushed to the toilet. I looked away until she was done and had flushed the toilet.   
Jokingly, I said, "Bad case of morning sickness, huh?" Ororo stopped washing her mouth and gave me a hurried look.  
"You know?!" I stared at her, confused.   
"Know what?" Apparently said the wrong thing, she leaned against the counter and continued her crying.   
"This was a mistake," she said, a hand to her throat, "nobody's supposed to know until after Jean's wedding." Still confused, I put a gloved hand on her shoulder.  
"Know what?" I asked again. Ororo looked at me, eyes full of tears, pained blue eyes that told nothing more than sorrow.  
"I'm pregnant, Rogue."   
OH MY GOD. What the HELL did Logan do to her? WHAT?! Was it a bad night that caused some condom to slip? That's just dirty. For the love of God, she's an instructor. She's supposed to be the good, moral-following person. Not a fornicator!!!  
But I swore to not tell her secret. She said she was pregnant for a month now, and Logan knows. But that's it.  
Ororo's -pregnant-. And I'm not even going to get into all that "how could this get any worse" stuff right now.  
  
April 7, 2003   
  
When Logan picked me up today, he wore that "I'm bigger than you" frown with eyes that told me not to deal with him.  
"I know," he started, staring in the back view mirror. I huffed, exasperated. "You know. So...you know." Since I'm always the only one that needs to be home before three, we were the only ones in the X-Jeep.  
I nodded. "Ororo told you."  
"She has to," he said, his voice desperate all of a sudden. This was as awkward as that time when I caught them...doing it... "It's not like I'm ashamed."  
"I know," I said, wrapping my hair around my fingers.   
"And it's not like I'm just gonna abandon Ororo," he continued, though I saw no need for it.   
"I know."  
"She doesn't deserve this," he spun the steering wheel while dodging a trash can. "I did this to her. I--"  
"Logan," I said. He glanced at me, hard. "If I may interrupt. Um, nobody's really complaining. And even if they were, I'm sure you'll be great parents. You'll just have to be less rough. I mean, not that you already are." For a moment there was silence except for the droning of an old Aerosmith song playing on the radio. Then I saw Logan suddenly smile and I was surprised just as I was when Piotr laughed. Logan hardly every smiles.  
"I'm gonna be a dad," he said, the smile growing wider. "Damn."   
Whoo boy. -Logan- is excited. I guess there's a time for everything, old or new.  
  
April 8, 2003   
  
I stopped by Tweedle Dee, the Baby Store in the mall on my way home today. I lied to Logan, telling him that I'd be going home with Jean so he could stay and take care of Ororo. Picked up a list of what mothers should eat while pregnant and went to the store and bought most of it. So far, only Jaime has noticed, complaining that there are only green beans and no M&Ms.  
  
April 9, 2003  
  
When I was passing through the hallways to get to my room, Scott stopped me. Taken aback, I gave him a mellow glance.  
"Fancy meeting you in this part of the manor," I said. He usually stays locked up in his closet (sometimes Beast would tell scary stories about seeing Scott molting which made Kitty stay up for a week), or at Bayville High's wilting class (he's won some award for five months in a row. Something about being Top Wilting Student or something) so I rarely see him anymore, but he didn't look any different. Same red glasses, pallid face, cheeky smirk, and maddening glow about him.   
Really makes me look back twice when I remember I used to like him.  
Pulling me into his room, he closed the door and pulled out something out of his drawer.  
"Behold," he cried, unrolling the paper. "My PLAN!!!" Written boldly in a crayon, were the words, "Operation: Doomsday."   
"Doomsday?" I asked. He broke out, laughing like an insane hyena.   
"For two straight months I've thought of foiling Jean's wedding; of humiliating that -Remy-! And here it is!" I looked from him to the paper and back again. "You see," he said, leading me through the plan, "here's the flowers, right? I plan to put extra water in the bucket holding them and leaving it out in the aisle, so when Jean passes by, she'll trip over the bucket since she won't be paying attention, splashing water all over her dress and ruining the wedding!" Loud cackling followed shortly afterwards, and I waited for it to die down before I broke the news to him.  
"But how in this way does this embarrass Remy?" Scott paused.  
"Well, if you look--" he looked. Apparently, this was something he never thought about before. "Oh, this is not good." Shoving me out the door, he closed it, saying he was busy, busy, busy!   
Gosh. I know I want to stop the wedding, but c'mon. And the problem is, there just isn't any reasoning with this guy.  
  
April 10, 2003  
  
When I had come back from buying tofu for Ororo, I found Jubilation sitting behind the couch, trying to wrap something. Coming around, I asked her what she was doing.  
"Wrapping a gift," she said, casually. I stared at the medium sized box. Tape and wrapping paper hung from all sides. I frowned, and Jubilation, seeing my disapproval, frowned as well. "It that bad?" she asked me, innocently.   
"Naw, it ain't," I said, smiling. Reaching over, I pulled at one jagged edge and the whole thing came apart. That was when Jubilation collapsed in tears.  
"You know, this wouldn't be so hard if the stupid store service person had wrapped it for me! I mean, I can't wrap for jack and they don't even have a bag that would fit this gift!" I held back a fitful laugh, and patted her arm with a gloved hand.  
"Don't worry, Jubes, I can help," I said. Taking off the messy paperwork, I realized what the gift was. Jubes, seeing my dissatisfaction, glanced at the gift worryingly.  
"It's not a good gift to get them?" she asked, quickly. It was a blender, the same as what you'd see on the Father of the Bride where she cries over it. Although, I don't think Jean would cry because it was such a homely gift. She'd actually be -happy-.  
"It's a great gift," I assured her. Wrapping it, I could almost sense my eyes filling with tears. Six days away--it was too close for comfort.   
And then I realize, everything is.  
  
April 11, 2003  
  
After school, I came into my shared room and found a beautiful cashmere dress colored emerald with a white rose attached to the hip. A note placed on the shoulder told me it was to be worn tomorrow. Tomorrow, I realized, was Jean's bachelorette party.   
And that just ruined my day.  
"You like it?" someone asked me from behind. I turned and saw Jean standing by the doorframe, beaming. I shrugged like it wasn't important.  
"Sure, I guess," I answered, casually. Jean shifted on her feet.  
"I hope it fits you," she said, "Remy suggested I take it, because it matched your eyes. I said, 'You're so righ--"  
"Remy?" I asked, aloud. Jean stopped mid-sentence, squirming in her sandals.  
"Of course, Remy. Why should that surprise you?" Recalling what I had said, I chided myself for being so obtrusive.   
"It doesn't," I spat, flatly. Holding it up to my neck, I held back a grin. -Remy has a nice touch-  
"He does, doesn't he?" Jean said. I whirled around--she had read my mind. Coming over, she took the rose from its hip and placed it at my neck. Sighing, she smiled. "Are you going tomorrow?"  
I paused, thinking. "I'm...not sure." She frowned while watching me in the mirror.  
"Going out with John?" I looked at her, appalled.  
"Why do you say that?" She shrugged again.  
"It's nothing new. He was with you at Vianne Seaux, on Valentine's Day, Clairemont's, and just last week you were walking together at my Parents' Brunch." I stared, violated.  
"Were you -following- me?!" I asked. She shocked me by laughing out loud.  
"No, silly," she said, delighted, "Remy likes to chat about that kind of stuff." Remy? I shuffled my thoughts, hoping she wouldn't pry again into my mind. Why would he care where I went with John? Unless...unless...  
He likes me? That can't be, he's still marrying Jean. And besides the thought is too far-fetched. It doesn't make sense...  
But I wish it did.  
  
April 12, 2003   
  
I didn't go. I mean, what was the point? Talking, gossiping, eating tarts and watching each other drink Shirley Temples?   
Yeah, right.  
So I told Jean I wouldn't go. Found her talking to Remy, who was wearing a tux since he was heading to his own bachelor party.  
"Jean," I said my voice chipped, "um, I can't go..." Jean rushed me hurried look. Dressed in a pale blue dress and scarf, she grabbed at Remy hands as if looking for support.   
"Why? You sick?" She rushed over, but before she could put her uncovered hands on my forehead, I moved myself away. "No, Jean, it's not that." Jean stared at me, worried.  
"Well, why?" I quickly thought about a lie to get me out of it.  
"I'm...going out," looking at them both, I shrugged. "With John."   
"John?!" Jean said, but it was more disbelief than accusation. I nodded: correct. "Well," she continued, looking at Remy for an answer, "I guess it's okay..."  
That's when I bolted out the door, not hoping for any more interrogation. So here I sit, eating popcorn in front of the television, watching Kim Possible like I do on every and all Saturday evenings.  
  
8:32 p.m.  
  
Ororo left me a note on the kitchen counter. It says:  
  
Rogue --  
  
Please pick up a cake for Evan. Tomorrow's his birthday.  
  
Yours,  
  
Ororo  
  
9:12 p.m.  
  
VERY big mistake. Ororo said pick up a cake. That meant buy one out of my pocket. Of course, I knew she'd pay me back, but I thought it would be easier just to make a cake. Then, when I found a cake mix, I decided to make it chocolate and put all this Hershey's chocolate in the batter.   
The VERY big mistake was that when I was mixing the batter and chocolate, I knocked over the vanilla and left the mixer on to get it, which caused it to go awry while flinging batter this way and that throughout the kitchen.   
The good news is, nobody's home. The bad news is, I have to clean it all up.  
Me and my -great- ideas.  
  
April 13, 2003 12:32 a.m.  
  
While I was mopping all the excess batter from the kitchen floor, I heard the door suddenly open and slam. Fearing it was Logan and his power to know when something is wrong, I quickly closed the kitchen door and turned off the lights, hoping he'd just go to his room. But instead, footprints walked to the kitchen, so I hid behind the door with the mop still in my hands. When the door suddenly flung open, he tripped over my mop and landed on the floor -- hard. That's when I just knew I was getting probation for a month. Flipping on the lights, I was surprised to find Remy laying on the floor, rubbing his now muzzled tux, and looking around, a bit baffled. But when he saw me, he shone a marvelous smile which told me he was all right.  
"Remy!" I cried out, behind my mop. "What are -you- doing here?"   
"Came t' see you," he said, getting up. Glancing around the kitchen, his eyes danced with laughter. "Somebody was havin' too much fun."  
I blushed at his remark. "How'd you know I was here?" Remy smirked.  
"When y' said y' were goin' out w' John, I didn't know how, since he was going t' my bachelor party," His smirk turned into a grin and he shrugged." And when he came, I knew y' were fibbin'."   
"So why didn't you tell Jean? " I asked. Remy, again, shrugged.   
"I didn see a reason." Walking around, he asked, "So what -are- y' tryin' t' do?"  
I explained about Evan's birthday and the cake and the mixer. Remy laughed as I finished.   
"I can help y', y' know," he said, as a-matter-of-factly, "I can even make t' icin', if y' like."   
"Actually," I said, gesturing at the mess, "I was thinking of just going out and buying a cake." Remy frowned.  
"If dere's nothing I hate betta dan bein' turned down from me own cookin'." He took out the flour and sugar, eggs and milk. "And if y' knew me any, y' wouldn." I put my hands up as if defeated. In ten minutes, he had created a nice batter, chocolate and all. And while it was baking, he whipped up the cream as well.  
"So, why didn't y' go?" he asked me, as he stopped stirring the icing, "y' sick?" I stifled a laugh, while leaning on the edge of the counter.  
"I wish," I answered, taking a sample of his creation. Peanut creme. I smiled, stating it was good. He smirked. "I guess I just didn't feel like going. You know, that feeling when you get all worked up after some sentimental..."  
"What is dis about?" he asked, taking the now baked cake from the oven. I remember smelling the chocolate in the aroma, while playing with my gloves.   
"Nothing," I said, trying to sound truthful. I took the spatula and slapped a generous amount of icing on the cake. Remy immediately started spreading.   
"It about John?" he asked, and I noticed a tense vibe in his voice. I shrugged. He looked over at me, stopping his work. "Why? Did he hurt you?" I flushed at his concern.  
"No, of course not. But… I hurt him," I said. Remy went back to his work, still listening. Playing with my gloves again, I looked over at him. "You promise not to tell?"  
Remy kept his eyes on the cake. "Sure, whatever y' want, beb."   
I stared ahead of myself, defeated. "He told me he loved me." I saw Remy's jaw tense. "He said he's loved me for the longest time, that he'd always be there for me." The thief said nothing.   
Then in a small voice: "What did y' say?"  
I paused, remembering. "I said...I said...no." Remy had finished the cake now, the look enticing and delectable.   
"Are y' disappointed?" he asked, standing up straight. I fumbled with my words.  
"I'm more guilty than anything." I saw the outline of his mouth fight between a smile and a frown.  
"Growin' a conscience, now are y', chere?" I slapped his shoulder.  
"I mean, c'mon. When you were proposing to Jean..." he glanced at me, thoughtful. "When you were proposing to Jean, weren't you thinking about how you'd make her feel guilty if she said 'no' to you?" He digressed to himself for a moment. Again, I put some leftover icing in my mouth, my senses melting along with the thick stuff.   
"How about we put it dis way?" Remy suggested, "don't y' regret saying some things y' said?"   
I looked quickly at him. It was my turn to ask, "What is this about?" But before he could answer, the door had opened and a clamor of voices spilled into the empty manor all at once. Remy looked away as I kept my eyes locked on him.   
"Remy," I said, wanting him to go on. Somehow, I knew he was trying to tell me something. But the thief said nothing more. I waited, until the voices died down, but some called out for the groom-to-be, wanting his company for what ever reason.  
"Remy," I said again, but he was already walking out the door.   
Looking back, he said, "G' night, chere." One blink and all that was left moving was the swinging door, creaking on its loose hinges.   
  
Later 12:34 p.m.  
  
Evan found the cake; we all ate a serving. Remy and Jean were out all day. Ororo says that this couldn't have been store-bought. I nodded; it was made by Remy. But concealing that fact, I comtemplated this on my own.  
  
  
April 14, 2003  
  
Talked to Piotr today since he was waiting to walk Kitty home because she had track practice. I just came by so we could talk.   
"Everything all right, Miss Rogue? You look distressed," he mentioned. I shifted between feelings while forcing a smile during it all.  
"I'm just been confused a lot lately, like when Frodo was about his ring, you know?" He looked at me, confused.  
"You lost me at Frodo, but go on."  
"Well, I was thinking about Remy and Jean and their wedding. First off, I don't think it should happen..."  
"Um, if I could disrupt, Rogue," he said, cautiously.  
"Of course."  
"Have you ever considered about ever telling Remy your feelings?" I thought about it.  
"Once. But..."  
"But?"   
"But..."  
"But??"  
Annoyed: "Let me finish and maybe I can actually tell you!"  
A small smile, "My point is, there is no 'but', my Rogue. Think about it: he might not reconsider his decision but at least when he walks down that aisle, he'll remember your words and know your feelings and realize what he's getting himself into." Which makes a lot of sense, now that he mentioned it.   
Sometimes, Piotr is just that weird mountain-living sage that always gives advice to those who listen.   
  
10:21 p.m.  
  
I wrote Remy a letter which I've included a copy here:  
  
Dearest Remy,  
I know it's a little -late- right now to be saying this to you, but it took me about four months to realize this and I can only come clean to you about it right now. I love you. And if you marry Jean, I know there won't be a second chance to deliver you from this dream that has caused many a night mare. I wish and wonder if there would be any chance of me being welcomed into your heart. Whatever your intention, your wish, I know I should understand. And I just thought this would help you to recognize such and realize that maybe some things are worth feeling guilty over [like writing you this letter (duh)], or being hurt over. But then again, some things just aren't worth taking back either.  
  
Rogue   
  
April 15, 2003 11:21 a.m.  
  
When I went to go steal into Remy's room, I found John standing on the balcony, his back to the door. When he heard the it close, he quickly rushed around and his eyes softened as he saw me. Walking to Remy's trench coat [he wasn't wearing it because he was eating breakfast at the hotel with Jean and her parents and Jean would kill herself if he was to wear the coat], I stopped just as I met John's eyes. We nodded, acknowledging each other's presence, and I placed the letter in a trench coat pocket before turning around and walking to the door. I didn't ask what his business was in Remy's room, but I wasn't looking forward to any awkward conversation.   
Then, when I was walking back to my shared room, Scott stopped me and happily showed me his new plan on destroying the wedding, involving a few hidden cherry bombs to explode on the altar and Remy's tux.   
"Just look at it now," he imagined, gleefully, "Remy running around with his tux on fire while Jean crying and..."  
"It won't work," I spat. He looked at me, surprised.   
"Why do you say that?" I shrugged.   
"I don't know," I stuttered and rushed past him. I just hope Remy gets my letter.  
  
2:13 p.m.  
I am heartbroken.  
You ever have that feeling when something inside you has burst and nothing can repair your damaged internal organs [which really only includes the heart]?  
I have, and damn, does it hurt.  
The couple had returned and Remy went to go get his trench coat. I sat on the couch, trying to look absorbed in the Bayville Times as Kitty and Piotr discussed the seating arrangement with Jean.  
"And I'll sit here," Kitty said, smiling. Jean nodded, drawing out another perfect table. "Then Piotr, then Amara. and you can't forget..." My attention diverted back to Remy who had dressed in his trademark trench coat, calling that he was ready. Prancing down the stairs two at a time and over John who was sitting at the bottom stair, he stopped, feeling his pocket. I bit my lip. It was the moment of truth, the declaration of desire, the destiny of the occasion. Taking out the note, his eyes narrowed as though he were trying to read through the paper. Then with a dangerous flick of his hand, the note flew out of his hold and ---  
BOOM! The note scattered in pitiful shreds, littering the ground with tiny flakes which reminded me of the snow that had ceased to fall out our windows.   
I stared, almost missing Jean's remark of, "Now why'd you have to do that, Rems? You know how Xavier hates when you blow random things up..."  
He opened his mouth to say something, but I had crinkled the newspaper and walked out before he could. Behind me, I heard Kitty ask what was, like, up with me?   
But she would never understand. Not in a million years would anyone care to see how I became remotely outraged and disappointed when Remy blew up that note, because when he held it, he also held my heart. And for him to just blow it up without caring...well, what should that tell you?  
All I have to say is I'm heartbroken. And that's all anyone has to know.  
  
10:19 p.m.  
  
I stayed in my room for a time, watching the ancient sunset out my balcony window. Voices loomed downstairs, some called for me, some didn't. I recognized not one as I laid on my bed, trying to understand why Remy would just blow something up like that before even reading it. I wanted to rub it off like some malfunction with his powers, but it didn't seem to fit in. Remy has his reasons for what ever he does. But he just never tells explanations.  
That's why I didn't hear the knock on the door when it sounded. But when it did come again, I called for it to go away. It didn't. Fuming, I wiped the stray tears from my elusive eyes and flung the door open. There stood John, hands in pockets, a small timid glare playing in his eyes. I immediately put my head down, ashamed but not sure for what.  
"G'day, love," he said, and I noticed he rocked on his feet while speaking. I rubbed my arms, nervously.  
"Hullo." I wanted to say something more, but to speak was like trying to haul a load of rocks from my throat. It hurt to talk. John noticed and chortled with a nervous vibe.   
Then he said after a long sigh, "I'll go if you don't want me here, Rogue. I just thought you wanted some company." Well, of course I didn't need to hear what he wanted to do to help me. I didn't care why he came, how he knew. But when he turned away, to go, I didn't know what voice made him stop and stay, but it was there and it called, "Wait, John." He turned around, his features softening. Coming closer, I stood there, playing with my gloves.   
"I've been a selfish brute this whole time," I started, noticing his body tense, then relax. "I wanted something I could never have, and learned the hard way." Sighing, I wrapped my arms around him. He didn't return the embrace immediately, so I said, "I just wanted to know if you're still there for me, like you told me before."  
I saw his smile, and that told everything. His own arms came around my back and held me against him. The warm moisture around my eyes embarrassed me, but they were lost against his auburn-colored coat as they fell from my eyes. His hold was strong and comforting, but that didn't keep me from comparing it to Remy's own embrace.   
John was lacking, but I couldn't tell him that. Not when I had already confirmed I was willing to be his girlfriend.   
At that, I don't think I should have any regrets--but I don't feel right. Not when I'm still holding on to something I already lost, making me guiltier than before.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Responses to Reviews:   
  
gecko: You reviewed [leave it up to me to feel excited]! I think, if I may, you are the only one that still thinks of Remy as truly for Rogue. And I'm standing quite on your side at that. You [and a whole lot of other people] would question why I put Remy as an impudent fool while Rogue and John are together in this chapter, and most likely the next [and last, mind you all]. Answers will come soon, I promise, but not too close for comfort.   
ishandahalf: You could kill one of the lesser, non-important people like Paul. Or the accordian man. I promise to not tell, but who'd notice anyway? That's why they're considered lesser or of no importance people.  
Christy S and Pyromaniac: I'd like to thank you both for coming over to my website, EMIA. Really, nobody has been visiting for a long time, and I'm glad -some- people actually care about what I put up in my bio *glares*.  
Bunny Angel: *smiles innocently* Oh. To not sound like a complete turd [because dangit I am], is like defying my own self. It actuality, I tried several times to think over an apology to you for what I said before. Because face it: I read it all and countered each, knowing that those who down played my fic would never review again. But you surprised me, and therefore I'm sorry for thinking you like the others.   
Special Thanks to: prettyputty, Swifty1125, rogue star, EddiechoseLife, Misa1124, and roguesailorZ for putting me on your favorite's lists! I'm pretty sure you each made me blush when I found out you did so! Thanks!  
  
Um, so I was thinking. After the next chapter the story will be finished, and I wondered if there should be another diary? Just a thought, or you could tell me after the last chapter is posted. Remember! Your review counts! 


	20. The Wedding Day

Snow in April: A Wedding Story  
  
By: Ariesque  
  
Genre: Humor/Drama  
  
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.  
  
Author's Note: Being this as the last chapter, I'm afraid it doesn't contain answers to really anything, except pour more confusion into the story line. Therefore, I'll write a epilogue to counter the two diaries.   
  
Chapter Twenty: The Wedding Day  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
April 16, 2003 6:13 a.m., in my shared room  
  
The first thing I noticed when I woke up this morning was that there was light pouring into my room. For nearly five months now, there has been nothing but snow and dense cold. Now, there was light.   
  
And as I continued my digression, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Sitting gallantly bold in the reflection of Kitty's vanity mirror, was a box. The ring. The Wedding Ring box.  
  
Quickly, I rolled out of bed, effortlessly throwing the covers off of me so that they dragged after my feet while hurriedly taking up the box into my hands. The container slid carefully between my fingers; I snapped open the case. There was the ring, shining something horrendously cheerful.  
  
But what was the reason for it being here? Possibly misplaced? Carelessly, I shook it from the box and placed it on my own bare finger. Appeased by its luster, I admired it in the light. Then the thought hit me like a ton of bricks crashing into me with the speed of light: Remy would want this back. For Jean. To marry her.   
  
Good God, my mind rasped, making my fingers toy with the rock on my finger. There would be the effort of taking it off now, or taking it off later. I smiled. I'd keep it on. Jean wouldn't miss it. Maybe Remy would, but whatever. Heck to him if he ever found out he misplaced the only worthy possession of giving Jean.   
  
I glared at the ice. "What would he care?" I asked it, aloud. "He hates me anyway. Let him hate me more." The rock seemed to smile back. That was all the answer I needed to keep it on.  
  
8:42 a.m.  
  
  
  
There was a knock on the door as I finished putting on the glove on my good hand. At first I thought it was Kitty, but she hardly ever knocks before entering a room, so I was skeptical. Then I opened it wider, and saw that it was Piotr, wearing his usual stony look. Seeing me still in my sleepwear, he coughed and looked away.  
  
"Elo, Rogue," he sparked, his eyes on the floor, "are you well?"   
  
"Sadly," I grimaced, but patted the cast on my arm. "What can I do you for? Looking for Kitty?" He coughed again, as though that wasn't what he was looking for. "What's wrong?"   
  
"May I come in?" Then blushing: "I promise I will not look at you..."  
  
"What's there to look at?" I asked, opening the door wider. He stepped inside, and waved the door shut.   
  
"I came..." he gulped. "I came to...warn you." His eyes never left the ground. I furrowed my brow.  
  
"Warn me? Does this have to do with Magneto?" Piotr blew out his breath.  
  
"No." He gulped; turned his eyes to my face, then quickly diverted them back to the ground. "From John."  
  
"John?" I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "What's to warn? Are you speaking for Remy because that's not going to work..."  
  
"He is not what he seems," he blurted. I glared at him, offended.   
  
"Piotr..." I started. Footsteps pounded against the ground. We both looked up together as a knock was sounded against the door.   
  
"Just listen to me Rogue. He is not what he seems," he repeated, hurriedly walking to open the door. There stood John, a plastic bag drawn over his shoulder. His eyes hardened strangely as if he wasn't happy seeing Piotr and me alone in the room.   
  
"G'day, mates," he greeted, sliding the bag from his shoulders. Piotr glanced warningly at me before exiting the room. John maneuvered his way to me, closing the door behind him. "What was that all about?"   
  
I shook my head. "Nothing." He smiled happily and hung the dress at the hook on the door. "I see you've brought something to me." He grinned, sliding his arms around me.  
  
"Thought I'd save you a trip to Danlie's and picked up all the girls' dresses." He pushed my hair back and grinned. I grinned back.   
  
"Thanks." I couldn't help myself. What was Piotr talking about? John seemed pretty nice to me. He removed his arms around me and reached for my hands. Remembering the ring still on my finger, I instantly moved them behind my back.   
  
"What?" he asked, disappointment in his voice. I smiled innocently while trying to remove the ring from my hand.   
  
"You know what?" I asked him, putting on a droopy face, "I think I could use some coffee. You mind getting me some?" John stared at me, questioningly.  
  
"Sure..." he slurred, unsure what I had up my sleeve. When he had left, I tried taking the ring off my finger in vain. I knew I had to get it off before John came back. So I went into the bathroom and started to soap the ring, since I heard that made it come off easier. And I think it would've if Kitty hadn't entered the room shortly after.   
  
She hadn't knocked, so I was surprised to find her head poking out, her body on the outside. Seeing her, I found myself screaming.  
  
"Knock! Dammit KNOCK!" She didn't leave though. Something about wanting her dress. Then she saw the ring and almost fell in.   
  
"Isn't that the wedding, like, ring?" she asked. I quickly shushed her.   
  
"Shut up! Nobody's supposed to know!" she glared at me.   
  
"You better take it off."   
  
"I think I already know that, thank you." Suddenly, there were footsteps coming down the hallway. Afraid of giving myself away, I pulled Kitty by the ear inside so that she was completely in the bathroom, all the while whining and crying about the pain from my pulling. Placing a hand over her mouth, I waited until the footsteps died down before I removed my hand.   
  
"Why are you so frantic? It's only, like, John."   
  
"That's just my problem." I explained that we were together and that he couldn't see with the ring or he'll explode. So Kitty phased me down to the kitchen, where Ororo was sitting and Logan was trying to coax her that there were only bitter mangoes, since they weren't in season yet.   
  
"But I want ripe mangoes. The BABY wants ripe mangoes. You don't want the baby kicking me for ripe mangoes, do you?" He shook his head, tiredly.   
  
"Well what do you want me to do? Place them under a heat lamp until they get ripe?"   
  
"I thought you'd never suggest." When they saw us, they smiled and continued their small argument. When we safe in the downstairs bathroom, I tried again to take it off. It wouldn't budge.  
  
"Serves you right, having, like, fat fingers," she mumbled, pulling at my finger. I held back a yelp, reminding her that was my broken hand. There were shouts and I heard John's voice ask Ororo where I was, so Kitty decided that I should stay and she'll keep him away with finding her dress. Grinning, I mouthed her thanks as she propped the thumbs up and walked through the bathroom door. After they left, I slunk back upstairs and changed my clothes.   
  
The ring remains planted on my finger, though.   
  
10:21 a.m.  
  
Less than seven hours away and I'm still not able to take off this darn ring!!!  
  
I have been kept busy, so I hadn't had time to try and take it off. Instead, I put the other glove over the ring to cover it.  
  
When I went back into the kitchen, Ororo and Logan were replaced with Hank and Xavier, discussing ethics in child decorum.  
  
"The fact is," Hank said, between bites, "children should be trained with patience."  
  
"Discipline, more like," the professor said, raising his bagel and pointing it at the Blue Furry man with it. "You never can know." Rushing past them, I placed two slices of bread into the toaster. When I turned back to them, they both wore a dubious look on their faces. It was the same look they used when one of us uses our powers in public, or when someone has flooded the toilet again.  
  
So when I asked them what they meant by those faces, Hank shook his head. "I don't know," he said, eyeing the toaster. "Shouldn't you be fasting before the wedding?" I glared at him.  
  
"I need to eat, Mr. McCoy."   
  
"Yes, I know. But..." he stopped. Xavier said it for him.  
  
"Jean will know."  
  
"I know," I said, as the two slices popped out. Grabbing one, I gobbled it down hurriedly.   
  
"Oh, and before I forget," Xavier continued, "Jean asked me yesterday to remind you today about seeing if the cake's ready and the flowers are in the church by four."   
  
"They'll shrivel and die in an hour," I muttered, downing a glass of orange juice. Mr. McCoy shrugged.  
  
"The cake doesn't have to be there until seven."   
  
"I was talking about the flowers." Then I briskly walked out because discussion with both Hank and Xavier is pointless and makes you fall asleep after their hour lectures.  
  
11:45 a.m.  
  
When I went to confirm the times on the schedule with Jean, I found her room empty, the wedding dress still at the corner across her vanity. Staring at it, I grazed my good gloved hand over the intricate beading and iridescent floral patterns fawning the skirt. Almost at once, I felt emotions stab at me; jealousy beat on my back while annoyance drummed in my head. I couldn't understand Remy wanting her, or my wanting Remy. This wedding was pointless; there wasn't anything to be gotten out of it. You don't just get married out of spite--I thought it was love that made people marry.   
  
I left, disgusted with the fact that I let me get so far ahead of myself.   
  
12:12 p.m.  
  
I have rightfully stolen the X-Jeep for my own benefit. Since nobody wanted to drive me to Bonnie's Bakery, and knowing the nearest bus stop was about a quarter mile away, I grabbed the keys from the hooks by the back door, and opened the garage where the vehicles were kept. And there sat the X-Jeep, crooning "Rogue, Rogue" in its position.  
  
I say rightfully because nobody was using it. And it was calling me. But Xavier doesn't know because my license isn't due until August.  
  
So I better not do anything stupid.  
  
1:34 p.m.  
  
  
  
I cannot believe this. The fact that I did NOTHING stupid and instead something did something stupid FOR me, kind of irritates me. I was a pretty good driver, come to think of it: waited for pedestrians to cross the frickin' road while the person behind me kept honking, ran no red light, didn't over speed. But as I said before, something just HAD to ruin it all by suddenly running into the middle of the road and I in turn get hit by it.  
  
That something happened to be a bear.  
  
Think about it: it's not everyday you get hit by a bear. And this wasn't the most thrilling experience that I had to put myself through. The amazing part was, the X-Jeep just stopped when the bear plowed against the driver's side. And funny thing was, everything started spinning soon afterwards. There were shouts and cries while I just sat there, dazed and surprised, the diamond ring still shining on my finger. When I looked into my rear view mirror, I saw something massive and black stagger away, as if it too were dazed and surprised.   
  
Later I learned that it was a bear that had escaped from the Bayville Zoo nearly two hours ago and they've been trying to catch it. When the zookeepers continued their chase after the bear, I immediately continued on my way. And when I looked at the damage the bear did, I found a huge DENT.  
  
Xavier's gonna kill me when he finds out.   
  
3:54 p.m.  
  
Everything is set: the cake is made, Paul will be at the Chancellor's Hotel at five-thirty, the flowers are delivered, I am puckered and ready and dressed. Even my hair is done. Sam helped me take off the ring by slipping it off slowly while wearing gloves. The ring lies next to you as I write this.   
  
But I haven't seen Remy nor Jean at all today. They weren't even at the Greys' brunch which the parents invited all the guests to their hotel again, but I doubt they even cared to notice; they were too busy finding bus boys to clean up after Kurt fell on the fruit table from being knocked over by Ray for replacing his shaving cream with Cool Whip in a can.   
  
Oh, I just heard a knock. That must mean the limos are here to take us to the chapel.  
  
4:15 p.m.  
  
While the bridesmaid filed into lines and the florists were still arranging the pink, yellow, and peach flowers, I heard someone call my name from behind me. Whirling around, I found myself being dragged into a limo, it taking off and driving away from the church. Sitting next to me was Jean, still wearing her normal clothes. Hair messed, make-up far from perfect, she glared at me with eyes that told nothing.  
  
"Jean!" was the name that rolled from my tongue. "What--Why aren't you ready?" Her glare intensified as I handed her the wedding ring's box with the ring inside.  
  
"I need to talk to you." The tone in her voice was cold and compelled. I found my heart whirling in my chest, and the first thought that came to mind was the ring. Had she known I wore it? Had she known I had it?  
  
Her words explained my questions.  
  
"You won't care what I'm about to say, or you can't understand what I'm about to say, but I'll say it." She breathed in, deep and stern, and exhaled with an eye glaring at me.  
  
"I called off the wedding." The words rushed at me and splattered against the inside of my head. Something in me lifted, I admit, but I could see Jean's face that it wasn't deliberate. She had been thinking. Which explained a lot of things. "If you'd had seen his face, you'd know how hard it was to call it off." She stopped, sniveling. "I met him in the morning in his room and told him my reasons, told him why I didn't love him anymore...or at all..." She stopped again, sighing. "When he first proposed the marriage, I thought it'd work out, you know? He knew me well and I knew him fine, and we both thought we could hit it off. But then as they say a cookie crumbles, so did our relationship." Her eyes focused on me as if I were a stranger. I gulped; wondering if she knew about my infatuation with Remy. "I tried changing him, placing him as a perfect image in my untainted mind that would do both of us some good. But then as he changed, I really thought about what I was changing him from. What could keep him from returning that way? How would my reputation discard? How would my parents efforts to raise me effect my marrying this man? I guess I loved him when I did, but right now," she shook her head, "I don't. And I can't. And I hope you understand me." I glared at her, her words, her true self. "I didn't want to tell anyone, and I guess Remy didn't either. But I guess it needs to come out sooner or later. We aren't getting married."  
  
"Why are you telling this to me?" I asked, letting the words sink in. She shrugged.  
  
"You're my maid of honor." She patted the cast on my arm and grinned sadly. "You offered me ice cream. You fell off that damn horse and broke your arm. You did everything and I didn't realize how shallow I was until now. But you put up with me. You and Remy. Funny how you two are alike like that. Too much patience." I glanced out the window then, and wondered where Remy could be. The driver didn't seem to care where he was taking us, but it didn't really matter then. Why she waited until now to break up the wedding baffled me. But it didn't really matter then when it should've, because what Jean did next was break the Berlin Wall --the State Border--the Emity between us. She put her head on my shoulder and cried. And I didn't push her away, feeling her accumulated pain. I did not question her further, I deciding it was best not to let her know of my discomfort with the lack of answers.  
  
Because somehow, I could tell she needed to cry as bad as she did.   
  
  
  
9:17 p.m.  
  
I made the chauffeur drive the limo back to the manor where I walked Jean back to her room. After calling the others and notifying the wedding's cancellation to Ororo, I could almost hear the relief fuming from her rasping breath as she hung up. That was when I decided to look for Remy.  
  
Taking the newly dented X-Jeep around the darkening streets of Bayville, I searched Clairemont's first, knowing it as his setting for the proposal. When I didn't find him, I drove around Vianne Seaux, then to Bonnie's, to the back streets behind Piccolo's, and rounded Vale Barrens twice, but to no avail.   
  
Then I got the idea to search the warehouses near the docks. It was the place where we first met, the place where we sang our silent serenade, the place where I knew I would soon fall for the Cajun and never have the heart to pick myself up. It was there I quickly got out of the Jeep, heels clanking against the wooden docks. The fog was just setting in and I found myself shivering from lack of covering. Then as I rounded another disappointing corner, I saw his shadow lay lazily on the ground. For a moment, I admired it, awkward as the situation was. That was when I continued to walk up to him, ever so slowly.   
  
I noticed his angered expression and found myself grinning like a damned fool.   
  
"Gambit," I teased him, noticing he was playing with his cards. He looked up, one bold scarlet eye flickered over his cards. Slowly, if not remotely, the smile on his face stretched sloppily across his face as if worn out. My body tensed; he pocketed his prized possessions.  
  
"I take it y' been lookin' f' me," he said, wearily. I nodded, surpassing my own fading dignity.  
  
"For the time being." I passed it off casually. Seeing him cringe, I wondered why he did so.  
  
"You make me laugh out loud sometimes, chere," he crooned, like an unsatisfied pup. A step toward me and I had to look away. He came closer with every word he said. Then he stood, all 6'2 of him, and with a single whip of his hand to his pocket, there laid a card too familiar to forget.  
  
"F' y', chere." His breath was husky as I took it. The uncharged card read King of Hearts. My heart fluttered in its place, and I had to compose myself again, hoping it wouldn't fly away. Staring up at the red of his eye, I smiled, shyly.  
  
"Thank you." I heard the swift pause before Remy stuck out his gloved hand. In it I could see a delicate flap of torn paper.   
  
A note.  
  
"G' bye, Rogue." I glanced at him, hurriedly.  
  
"You're going?" I regretted my voice sounding with disbelief. He looked away and I figured well he was blushing.  
  
"Sure, mon ami. It ain't nothin' new."   
  
"New?" His words caused me to feel dizzy. When I began to teeter on my feet, he took hold of my arms, but they were far from where he could pull me to him.  
  
"Louisiana. T' be exact." When he felt I could stand on my own, he dropped his arms to his sides, as if numb.   
  
"Are you coming back?" I sounded hopeful. I wanted him to stay, knowing he really wasn't hurt by Jean's decision to not marry him.   
  
His answer was vague but sincere.  
  
"I'm lookin' f' time. Xavier says it's okay; so I'll be okay." Then, he slid his hand into mine and tightened his grip around my palm. "Take care now. Be good t' John."   
  
His words dragged me back into reality. I was with John. It wasn't fair, I tell you now. It wasn't fair how Remy could just play with my feelings and make me propose unrequited love. But when I retreated to John as a last resort, Remy became available and I was once again with feelings that felt like oil and water-- too different to mix. When I turned around, I came face to face with John who had been there the whole time. He was wearing a content face too flagrant to be hidden behind his many facades. Taking my arm, I could tell he was ebullient of having Remy gone.   
  
"You and Remy, I assume left on good terms, love?" he said, smiling. I looked at him with a smile so weak. After hitting a bear, letting Jean cry, and having to see Remy leave without anything more than a note, I was more than pooped and disappointed. I hurt.  
  
John brushed it off and offered me a ride home, but I didn't have the heart. Not when Remy had taken it with him. But I need to remind myself constantly that I'm with John. That I have had the strength to move on, body and soul.  
  
Only, I lack giving John my heart, because Remy has it.  
  
11:25 p.m., in my shared room  
  
When I was driving back, I stopped by the Bayville Zoo to visit the bear. The dress hunched against my skin as I walked to the cage, ignoring the security warden glancing at me. The bear was outside, sitting on his hind legs, staring at me with those small, beady black eyes of his.   
  
"You hit my jeep," I started. He continued to watch me. "Xavier's gonna have my neck. But nobody's gonna get you, because you're a bear. What could've stopped you from deciding to run away? What could you have been thinking about when you stepped out of your pen and roamed the streets of Bayville? But no. When you hit someone, nobody can blame you because you're stupid and since you hit me, people think I hit you. Therefore, I get the blame. I get..." He interrupted me though, bellowing angrily at me. His mouth was black, humongous, enormous. I shut up then, and he continued to watch me.   
  
That was when I remembered the note.   
  
Turning to my gloves, I pulled it out and unfolded it. The paper was flimsy; loose leaf paper is my first guess. As the words came together, I glared at it, then at the bear, and back again.   
  
I'll be back, it read. I'll write everyday. I'll never forget you; I'll always miss you.  
  
"Will you?" I asked aloud. " Or are you just lying to me again, playing with my feelings as you always do?" When I looked up again, the bear was sitting on his behind, still staring at me.   
  
It isn't rational, I'm telling you. Confusing me, making me expect something I'll never get, making me want something too far away to reach. It isn't fair, to find myself staring at a bear, expecting answers I'd never get.  
  
I never thought it'd end like this, talking to a bear about a broken heart. The cold stare he gave me told too much truth. I had accused him of being stupid, but he in turn told me he wasn't the only one.   
  
~~NOT THE END~~  
  
______________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
To all reviewers: Look for the next book in the Rogue's Diaries Series: Rumor has It. I'm thinking that it won't revolve around Rogue's diary alone so that any and all questions may be answered. Hope you all liked Snow in April and I thank all my faithful reviewers for giving me a chance to express Rogue as what I thought she needed to be perceived.   
  
Special Thanks to: LadyGambit 20, Queondapio, AlabasterDuchess, faeryeyes for adding me to your favorites' lists!  
  
Feedback: how'd the ending go? Thoughts on Piotr's warning, Rogue about John. Remy's departure and promise, Jean's breakdown, and anything else. I'd like to know, to tell the truth. 


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